The Value Of Time
by Sylvia Elaine
Summary: Have you ever wondered why Steve chose teaching as an alternative career? An injury and a long period of convalescence may hold the answer.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Streets of San Francisco or make any profit from them. They remain the property of Quinn Martin.

A/N: I've been a reviewer for over three years and have decided to take the plunge with my own first story. I've researched the medical information as carefully as possible and drawn on my own experience of working on the administration side of the British National Health Service for all my working life. I apologise in advance if there are any mistakes. The story is complete and I aim to post a chapter a day. Many thanks to Shergar who has checked the story over for me. I also owe a huge thank you to Keller12917 who has given me enormous help, advice and encouragement all along the way. I couldn't have done it without her.

The Value of Time

Chapter 1

It was a little after 10.00 pm on an unusually cool early October evening when two homicide detectives from the San Francisco Police Department in a tan LTD were on their way back from interviewing a liquor store owner about a recent robbery in which an innocent 22 year old bystander had been shot and killed three nights before. Although it was something the partners were well used to, it was always quite sobering to realise how easily a young life could be cut off in it's prime. They chatted in easygoing companionship as they drove along. Three years into their partnership together the two men were comfortable in their working relationship and also in the strong bond of friendship that had steadily grown between them. They trusted the other every day of their lives, knowing that in any difficult situation each would unfailingly watch the other's back. The older of the two by some twenty-five years decided to lighten the conversation.

"Okay, Buddy Boy, what's on the menu tonight then? Do you fancy a burger, pizza, chilli? You name it you can have it. I'm paying! In fact, I'm in such a good mood I'll even spring for pizza with no anchovies on either half!" The older man's blue eyes twinkled in the reflection of lights from cars coming from the opposite direction as he looked across at his young partner who was driving the LTD.

His partner of the last three years returned his look briefly with a look of incredulity on his face.

"What's this, Mike, you're paying? What's brought this on? You come into a windfall or something?" The young man's eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave out a loud chuckle.

"You may mock, Steve, but I happen to have had some very good news today and I'm in a mood to celebrate."

"Oh yeah! What good news? You had a bet on the gee-gees? I saw you talking to Barny Halliday on Friday while I was in the liquor store interviewing the store clerk. What did you do? Ask him to take a bet for you? You know that's naughty-naughty." He wagged his finger in the air. "If Olsen found out you'd placed a bet with a bookie's runner you'd be in real trouble." He smirked and giggled as he glanced briefly across at Mike.

"What me... bet on a horse? I've got more sense than to throw my money away on some nag that's probably still trying to reach the finish line before next Christmas. No, Buddy Boy, I heard from Meg Whittaker today about that old clock that I found in that garage sale I went to on Sunday. She's cleaned it up quite a bit already and she wants to take it to a dealer she knows. She has a strong feeling that it may be worth a dollar or two."

Steve's eyes grew large as he looked across at Mike.

"Really? You're kidding me. That old clock looked like it should've gone to the garbage dump not an antique dealer. Does she really think it may be worth cleaning up and fixing?"

"Well, she needs to see what the dealer thinks but her guess is it could be worth around..." As he was speaking the LTD turned the corner.

"What the hell...! Mike! Oh my God, Mike! There's a house on fire!" A three-story house, about fifty yards along the street, had flames spurting out of a first-floor side window and smoke was coming from several of the other windows on that level and the level above. A woman with a child about ten years old was standing in the front yard screaming. She was pulling away from the child who was trying to hold her back.

Steve pulled the car to a screeching halt opening the door as it came to a stop and ran towards the frantic woman. Mike briefly stayed in the car, radio in hand calling for emergency services before he too exited the car and dashed across the grass in front of the house.

"Help me! Somebody help me! My husband... my baby... they're still in there! Oh please, you have to help me. HELP!"

The child at the side of her was holding onto her arm and trying to pull her back as the woman was torn between staying with her child and running towards the house.

"Mommy... no don't! Please Mommy you can't leave me!" Their anguished, pleading cries were alerting neighbours in nearby houses. People began running out of their houses in their nightclothes towards the woman and child on the grass.

"Mommy, where's Daddy? Where's Rosa?"

Steve reached the woman. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Is there anyone still in there?" he shouted to the woman.

"My husband got us out, but he's gone back in again. My baby. She's still in there."

"Where?... Where in the house is she?"

"In her cot... U-u-upstairs... Third floor at the back of the house! Oh please, you have to get my b-b-baby out!"

The woman was beside herself with fear. Her eyes were large with shock and tears were streaming down her face.

"Alright... shush... shush... Okay, Ma'am. I'm going in. I'll get her out... but you must wait here! Stay with your daughter!"

He turned to run towards the house stripping off his beige raincoat as he ran.

"Steve... wait... Steve!" He could hear Mike screaming at him to be heard.

Other neighbours had now gathered in front of the house, and one man had brought a ladder round from the side of his house, but just as he went to lean it to the frame of an upper window, there was a sudden blast and flames spewed out of the window and glass showered down from above.

"Get back... all of you... get back!" Mike frantically shouted. "The fire department are on their way. Stay back I tell you!" he yelled as another made to follow Steve as he ran full pelt towards the burning house, now well alight from several windows. More breaking glass could be heard and felt as it showered down from above.

"STEVE... don't... wait for the fire department... they're on their way!" But Steve had ears for no-one as he felt in his pants pocket for a handkerchief and tied it around his mouth then draped the coat over his head and ran through the open front door. He could see the stairs ahead of him, but the smoke was thick and choking. He took a lungful of air, buried his face in his coat and started to race up the stairs, flames already beginning to lick through the bannisters from the hall below.

"STEVE! WAIT! Oh my God, STEVE!" Mike screamed at his young partner as he disappeared into the choking smoke. He, too, pulled his overcoat over his head, ran to the open front door and made to follow him up the stairs.

"Steve, don't be a fool," he shouted frantically up the stairs. Suddenly he heard Steve shout.

"Mike! Are you there, Mike? There's a man here on the stairs. Help me get him up." Mike took about four steps upwards. The smoke was so thick by now he could hardly see a hand in front of him and he barged into the back of a hard body.

"Oomph! Is that you, Steve? What?... Who?... Is he unconscious? Is the baby there?" As Steve turned the man over they could both see he was on the verge of unconsciousness. There was no sign of the baby. They hauled him to his feet.

"Mike, you take him! Get him out of here! I'm going up!"

"You can't, Steve, it's too risky! It's suicide! Turn back. The fire department are on the way. Let the firemen do it... please!" He grabbed Steve's arm and pulled him to look at him. A brief imploring look from Mike passed between them through the smoke. Steve just gave a small grin and squeezed Mike's arm.

"You know that I have to do this, Mike. You get him out. I'll be okay." Both of them knew the child's only hope was for one of them to carry on up in the burning house. The fire department still hadn't arrived. Steve had already pushed the full weight of the near-unconscious man onto Mike and, as he staggered under the weight, he knew he had to get the man outside and to safety. Flames were beginning to lick around their feet. They hadn't got long. The choking smoke was unbearable.

"For God's sake, Steve... be careful... you can't risk..." But Steve had already disappeared upwards into the choking smoke. Mike could feel the heat from the flames under the stairs licking around his lower legs as he put his arm around the waist of the man and took his weight as he inched his way back down the staircase. The acrid smoke was taking his breath away and he was struggling to get his breath when, through the smoke, he saw the open door ahead of him with flames licking at the door jambs. He hauled the heavy weight of the man through the front door, stumbling as he did so, and took several more steps then, as several pairs of hands reached out to grab his burden, his legs collapsed under him as he fought to get air into his tortured lungs. Grasping hands pulled him away from the flames.

The sound of the fire truck sirens rent the air and the screeching hiss of the air brakes announced the arrival of the truck as, one by one, the firemen went about their well-rehearsed routines of rolling out hoses and connecting them to the fire hydrant. The fire chief in his white helmet ran across to Mike.

"Is everybody out?" he shouted above the fierce crackling of the flames.

"No, my partner's in there and there's a baby still in there. He's trying to find her and get her out. Third floor I think." Mike's lungs screamed for air as he inhaled deeply of the cool night air as he was pulled further away from the burning house. One of the firemen put an oxygen mask on his face. As he sat on the grass breathing deeply on the oxygen his heart was filled with unbelievable terror for Steve.

"Matt, Harry, get your BA's on and see if you can get a hose in there. There's a guy and a baby still inside somewhere." The fire chief issued his orders and the men knew what was expected of them, but the fire was burning so fiercely now there was no chance of an entry through the front door. The stairs to the first floor were well alight so there was no way up that way... and, more importantly, no way down for Steve.

As Steve reached the top of the stairs, the smoke was so thick he could barely see, and the heat was becoming unbearable. He felt his way as fast as he could, quickly scanning from room to room but could find no indication of a baby's room. Breathing was becoming almost impossible. There was no clean air to be had. He kept himself as low as possible. The woman had said third floor, so he knew he had to go up still further to the floor above. Fortunately, the flames had not yet reached the upper floor at the rear of the house, but the thick smoke was percolating up and it encompassed everything in its path. He reached the upper landing and fell to his knees. His lungs were bursting. He was coughing and choking. Dizziness was overcoming him. He couldn't go on. He couldn't. He knew he was on the verge of passing out. He didn't want to die here on this landing in this burning house. From somewhere in the recesses of his brain he remembered a phrase an elderly fireman once told him... 'If you can't get the victim out of the fire, don't let it consume you too'. He should get himself out. He should abandon the search and save himself. As fast as the thought came to him he dismissed it. No, he wasn't going to give up on the child. He'd rather die first... and in that moment, he knew without a doubt he probably would. The smoke... the choking smoke... no more... please... no more. His head felt like it was spinning in a vortex. Suddenly he heard a weak cry... a baby's cry. It was all he needed to spur him on. He shook his head trying to clear it. It was coming from his left. He crawled on his hands and knees forcing himself to stay alert. There it was again! He felt an open doorway and inched his way inside. His brain knew this had to be his last chance to find her. This has to be it. She had to be in here. He knew he couldn't go on much longer. She had to be in here! His chest was burning from the force of a racking cough.

The cry came again but weaker this time. It was definitely coming from within the room. He inched his way further in. He touched wood. He felt over it. A chest of drawers maybe? He inched further. There was a fluffy rug on the floor under his knees. A small, pink rabbit was lying to the side of it. He reached forward. Wood again. Bars. A cot. He hauled himself up using the bars for leverage. His hand felt through the smoke and he could just about make out the form of a small child. He reached into the cot. She whimpered again... oh so faintly. He gathered her up and, wrapping the blanket that was over her around her, he turned back towards where he hoped the door was. He didn't know how he was going to get out but get out he must! This child had to live. He had to live. He wasn't going to give up. Not now he'd got this far. Suddenly an eerie light appeared where he thought the doorway to be. Crackling! Flames! Flames were licking along the landing blocking his route. Suddenly there was an enormous crash as part of the staircase gave way and crashed to the flaming floors below. His escape route was well and truly gone.

He knew he had to steady himself and think. A window! There had to be a window. Still keeping as low as possible, he reached out feeling to his right inching sideways all the time, coughing with his lungs almost at bursting point. Nothing but a wall. He retraced the few steps he'd taken and started to inch to his left. A window sill! Glass! "Thank you, God!" He felt for the catch. The window opened. Suddenly he was able to fill his lungs with air... smoky air... but infinitely less acrid than the air in the room. He looked out and down. It seemed an impossibly long drop down to the ground below maybe twenty five or thirty feet.

"HELP! HELP!" he screamed towards men beneath him.

Faces looked up and several firemen saw him at the window. They gathered beneath him and shouted for a ladder.

"There's no time. I'm going to drop her down." He shouted weakly down to them coughing desperately. "Catch her! Oh please, God, help them!"

He held the baby out at arm's length and when he could see the men beneath, he let her go. He heard a cheer ring out from below. They'd got her!

"We've got her! She's safe. Hang on! We're putting a ladder up." The heat building up behind him was intense as the draught from the window drew it into the room and fanned the flames. He had no choice. He couldn't stay in the room. He climbed up till he was sitting on the sill sideways and began to lower himself over the edge. If he could just hang on till they got the ladder up.

He could see the ladder coming closer. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion that rent his ears as flames whooshed through the room behind him. He felt the force of the air push him backwards and he could hold on no longer. He knew he was falling... falling... arms flailing... legs flailing... the ground coming up to meet him. Then pain... unbearable pain... and then, as blackness enfolded him, he heard a scream...

"STEVE! Nooooooooooo!"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Many thanks to all the Guest reviewers who have commented on my story. I'm sorry that I'm unable to message you personally to thank you, but I do appreciate all the reviews I've received on my first chapter.

Chapter 2

The waiting room in the Emergency Department of San Francisco General Hospital had become oh so familiar to him over the years. Too familiar in fact. He knew exactly where to go for the drinks machine, where to go for the rest room, how hard the chairs were and how slowly the fingers on the clock moved. Oh, how they moved so slowly. He got up and paced ten steps towards the window, looked outside as the sky was infused with the pink glow of a breaking dawn and then paced ten steps back again. The sky held no beauty for him today. His focus was on only one thing... one person.

How much longer? What are they doing in there? How's my boy? He has to be okay. He must be okay. All these phrases passed through his head time and time again. It was the not knowing what was going on that was the worst. If he just knew how bad things were he could find a way to cope, to find a way through it. He just needed to know.

His mind thought back to when he saw Steve fall to the ground. It was etched on his brain. It was all he saw every time he closed his eyes. The heart-stopping moment, the sickening thud as Steve hit the ground, then the run towards him. He continually re-played every moment. He hardly dared utter the question...

"Is… is he alive?"

The fireman was feeling for a pulse in Steve's neck. Mike held his breath. He could feel his heart pounding. The young man was lying awkwardly on his left side with his head and shoulders in the lower part of a thick shrub but the rest of his body and legs were lying on the hard slabs of the yard. His left leg was lying at a sickeningly awkward angle, blood spreading over the leg of his beige pants. Mike just knew it had to be broken. There was a bloody laceration about two inches long to Steve's right cheek and blood was trickling down his jaw and pooling in the crease of his neck. There was blood on his right arm and also on the side of his once clean pale blue shirt, now smoke-blackened and grimy.

"He's alive!"

"Oh, sweet Jesus! Thank you!" Mike exhaled, tears clouding his eyes as he looked down on the still form of his partner.

"That bush saved him... must've broken his fall, but we need to get hoses up at this side of the house so we need to move him away from here and fast." The fireman was quickly assessing whether they dare move Steve.

"PARAMEDIC!" The fire officer shouted. "We need a paramedic over here! Stat!" Two paramedics reached them, and they quickly began their assessment of him. Time was vital. There could be more explosions from the house at any minute. Satisfied that his upper body seemed to be not too badly hurt, they lifted him gently up and away from the bush. They were so careful with his leg and wary, too, of the apparent injuries to his right arm and the right side of his chest, but also found that they had to lift his left arm carefully too, as it seemed to be impaled on a sharp branch. One of them broke the branch leaving some four inches of the wood sticking out of Steve's arm. They then carried him carefully some way from the burning house and lowered him onto the grass then began working on him to stabilise him. Mike watched as they put in a plasma IV line and fitted an oxygen mask over his lower face. Hands gently tried to draw Mike away from the scene. He didn't want to go. He tried to fight the grasping arms off. He needed to stay with Steve... he needed to be at his side... he couldn't leave his Buddy Boy... he just couldn't.

"Come on, Mike. Give them some space. They'll do what needs to be done never fear. Steve's in good hands now." He looked at Abe Connings, the fire chief, his white helmet now showing grubby, smoke blackened marks.

He knew it made sense, but pulling back and away from the young man lying broken and bloodied on the ground was killing him. He couldn't take his eyes off him.

"Mike!" The word came more urgent now and Mike backed away, every step torturing him, willing the young man to pull through, to not leave him. He couldn't bear it if...

A phone rang and broke into his thoughts and Mike looked up tearing his mind away from the dark images spinning around in his head. There were bright lights all around him and a phone was ringing. It was just a phone on the reception desk. Nothing important. He took a deep, shuddering breath. Suddenly a voice at his side spoke.

"Mike. Oh my God, Mike! I came as soon as I heard. Is there any news of Steve?" He looked sideways at the face of Roy Devitt who looked back at him with anxiety etched all over his face. Roy sat on the seat next to him and placed a hand on Mike's back.

"Oh, Roy. No, no news yet. I'm still waiting. I don't know what's taking them so long. I've been up to the reception desk twice, but they told me I just have to be patient. Patient! I ask you! How can I be patient when that boy could be gasping his last breath in there? It's killing me, Roy. I saw him fall. I saw the window blow out, the flames, the glass shattering everywhere, and he fell. He just... fell. His leg, Roy, it was a mess, and there was so much blood." The last words were spoken on a choking sob. "There was nothing I could do. I had to leave him. They pulled me away. I know they had to but... Oh God, Roy, they made... made me leave... him." Torture filled Mike's eyes and tears coursed down his cheeks.

"I know, Mike. I know. But they had to do it for the best. You know that." Roy couldn't bear to see his friend suffering like this. "Did you travel to the hospital in the ambulance with him?"

"No, they wouldn't let me. They needed two paramedics in the ambulance with Steve to work on him, so they brought me here first. They made me see a doctor." He lifted his bandaged hand. "I have some minor burns on my hand. Nothing that matters. They'll soon heal."

"Did you tell them Steve's blood group and about his serious allergy to penicillin?" Roy felt the need to ask but also felt certain Mike would already have informed the staff.

"Yes, I told the paramedics and they noted it down on their chart and promised to pass it on to the doctors."

Roy's hand was smoothing up and down his friend's back comfortingly as Mike spoke. Roy could see the bandage on his left hand. He was struggling to find words of comfort for his friend. What could he say when the guy's heart was breaking, when he was waiting for news of his young partner that he loved like a son.

"Any news of the others yet?"

"What? Oh er... yes, I asked one of the nurses. Mr. Sanchez has been taken to the Burns Unit. He has some degree of smoke inhalation and quite bad burns to various parts of his body that will probably need grafting in time. The baby, Rosa, she's in the Pediatric ICU. No burns but very bad smoke inhalation. They've put her on a ventilator to help her breathe. It's touch and go whether she makes it, but Steve has given her a fighting chance. The doctor said another few minutes and she'd have been gone." The sombre words lay heavy between them. A young life almost snuffed out like that. They both prayed it wouldn't happen.

"The kid did good to get her out. If she survives it'll be down to him." Roy spoke with immense pride for the young Inspector on his team.

"Yes, Steve did good. You're right on that one. I've come to expect no less of him. He put his life on the line for those folks. He deserves a commendation and I'm going to see he gets one for this. He was stupid to go into that house. Stupid... but so very brave. He never hesitated, you know. He went straight in. I begged him to wait for the fire department but... well... he wouldn't. He knew there was no time to wait. When I heard those stairs collapse in, my heart almost went with them. I didn't know if he was going to get out alive. I was terrified for him, Roy." The pride and the terror in his voice were evident to Roy as he saw Mike moisten his lips and his eyes well up.

"From what I heard you were both brave. You're two crazy cops you know that and I'm proud of you both." He smiled as he gave Mike's shoulder a squeeze. The two men looked long and hard at each other, then both looked to the floor as they continued to wait. It seemed interminable but couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Suddenly a voice spoke, and both men looked up together to the tall man standing in front of them.

"Lieutenant Stone? I'm Dr Cranmer. I'm the attending looking after Inspector Keller. Can I speak with you please? I think we'll go into the relatives' room. It's quieter there."

Mike's heart sank, and words tumbled around in his head. "It must be bad news! Oh God, it must be bad. Why would he take them into another room away from the waiting area unless it was bad news?" He stood and took a step, but his legs felt so heavy he couldn't make them work. He faltered, and he felt a strong arm grab his right arm then another arm took his weight on his other side.

"Hey, easy now. Take it easy. The Inspector's going to be okay. Don't panic. I just need to speak with you."

"What? What did you say? Really? He's really okay? You're not just saying that? He's going to be okay?"

"Well, he's obviously not good but he could be a lot worse. Now, Lieutenant, let's get you in here and get you sitting down before you fall down."

"Mike. The name's Mike."

The doctor smiled at him. "Okay... Mike then."

With the help of Roy Devitt, they sat him in an armchair. Dr Cranmer pointed to the water cooler and Roy poured a cup and brought it hurriedly over to Mike. He held it out to him, but Mike just looked at it blankly till Roy put it in his hand, folding his fingers around it. He helped him lift it to his lips.

"Here, take a drink. It'll steady you down a bit then let's hear what the doctor has to say." He smiled at Mike and nodded at the paper cup. Mike took a deep draught of the water then, taking a deep breath, he looked at the doctor with rheumy eyes.

"Better now?" The doctor spoke directly to Mike. There was a nod and the doctor then glanced sideways to Roy indicating the chair alongside the one Mike was sitting in. Roy sat.

"Now, as I said, Inspector Keller..."

"Steve. Call him Steve. He'd want that."

"Okay... Steve... has been a very lucky young man... in some respects. To fall from a high window like that and not suffer serious head or spinal injuries is nothing short of a miracle. I believe he landed in a large bush and that..."

"A viburnum..."

"I beg your pardon..."

"It was a viburnum bush. He landed on a large viburnum bush. That's what broke his fall."

"Yes, well, as I was saying… he's a lucky young man to survive a fall like that and from that height. I was told third floor?" Mike nodded. "He has multiple contusions and lacerations particularly to his face, his arms and his chest wall caused by the branches in the bush scratching or sticking in him. The left arm sustained a puncture wound from a branch and will be looked at more closely when we get him to theatre. The others are largely superficial, some worse than others, and they'll be stitched and will heal up nicely in a few weeks. Unfortunately, the one on his face will need a plastic surgeon and, again, that will be looked at in theatre. Steve's a good-looking guy and we need a decent repair to that laceration. He also has some minor burns to his lower legs but nothing too serious. There's also the problem of smoke inhalation. His chest will be very raw for quite a while and breathing won't be easy. We have him on oxygen and we also have him quite heavily sedated at the moment. Very often with smoke inhalation there can be a lot of oedematous swelling and, in the initial few hours, it often gets worse before it gets better. If that happens and his breathing worsens we may need to intubate him to allow his lungs and trachea to rest and heal. We'll be keeping a very close eye on him. You know he really was amazingly lucky to survive a fall from that height. That was some lucky bush. He must have had a guardian..."

Mike couldn't stand this. Couldn't the guy get to the point? "Wait... what about his leg? It looked to be broken."

"Yes, I'm coming to that next." Dr Cranmer looked at Roy. "Does he always interrupt like this?" he said with a half-smile on his face.

Roy smiled back. "Only when he's worried about his partner and with these two that happens all too often I'm afraid." He patted Mike's arm. "Let the doctor tell us in his own time, Mike."

"Sorry... er sorry, Doctor. I'm er... just... you know... er... I just need to know that..." He cleared his throat and reached in his pocket for his white handkerchief and, folding it, used it to wipe his eyes. "I think my eyes are running from the smoke you know... it... er... gets in the eyes you know and makes them... er... smart." He coughed and wiped his nose and mouth with the handkerchief.

"I totally understand. I think you're suffering from shock yourself and I can tell you're very worried. I totally understand that. Now let me explain. Steve's main injury is to his left femur. X-rays have shown us he has two clear breaks one of which is a compound fracture... that's where the bone is pushing through the skin... and it'll need to be fixed surgically. He also has a dislocated knee which will be reduced in theatre. I've called in Dr Truman. He's our attending orthopedic surgeon. It's going to be very difficult surgery but he's a fine surgeon... the best we have. If he can fix Steve's leg, then I think he'll have a fighting chance of a good recovery... given time of course."

Mike listened intently to what Dr Cranmer had to say but one word stuck out more than all the others. He heard that one tiny word which resounded in his head... 'IF'.

"What do you mean... IF he can fix it? Does that mean he may not be able to fix it?"

"Well, we mustn't jump ahead too far. Let's just take it a step at a time. Dr Truman will study the X-rays and, when he feels Steve is ready, he'll take him to theatre and then he'll know more when he can get a proper look at the leg and just how bad it is. We have to be wary of the damage from the smoke inhalation too, before we commit to an operation."

Mike was still concerned about that word 'IF'. "But Doctor… you said IF. I need to know what you're implying." His voice raised and shook with fear. "What if he can't fix it? Then what?"

The doctor's eyes fixed on the piercing blue eyes of the man in front of him. He quickly assessed the man and knew the Lieutenant needed to be told the truth. "I won't lie to you. It's a very bad break. Pretty much the worst you can get, especially complicated by the dislocation. Thigh breaks tend to bleed heavily into the surrounding tissues so we've already started a blood transfusion and, of course, it's an open wound so we have to guard against infection too. You told us about his severe penicillin allergy, so we've already started an IV with Clindamycin. If Dr Truman can't fix it, or if there are significant complications, well... with a break that bad there's only one alternative... amputation. But, it's early days and we definitely aren't thinking like that yet. He'll do his best I can promise you that and you have to have faith in him Mike. Mike!… Can you hear me?"

The doctor's voice faded away as Mike heard only one word "Amputation!" No, no no, no, no... this can't be happening... not to Steve... not this...! He's too young... his career will be finished... his sports... his life! Amputation... amputation... amputation! The word whirled in a vortex as Mike felt blackness closing over him.

"Mike! MIKE!" But Mike couldn't hear. Hands pressed his head down towards his knees.

"Just breathe deeply. That's it. Slowly and deeply. You're going to be okay. It's just the shock." But still the word AMPUTATION roared in his head.

"Please, God, this can't be happening. Please tell me this isn't real." He lifted his head. It took a few seconds for his eyes to focus but then he looked first at Roy then at Dr Cranmer.

"Please... can you take me to see him? I need to see him. I have to see him. Please."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dr Cranmer led the way through the emergency room to the bay where Steve was lying on a gurney under a white sheet. There was an oxygen mask on his face, an IV line going into each arm, one with saline and the other administering a blood transfusion. There was an additional small bag of liquid also going into the saline drip. The bag was clearly marked Clindamycin. There was a large dressing covering most of his right cheek and Mike could see blood had already seeped through it leaving a large red stain on the dressing. Steve looked pale and his breathing was significantly laboured. Mike listened to every tortured breath, then swallowed and inhaled deeply himself, a shudder passing through his entire body as he gazed down at the young man on the bed. A stool had been placed at the side of the gurney and Roy touched his arm and encouraged him to sit.

Mike took the young man's right hand in his own and squeezed gently. He put his face down towards Steve's and spoke softly. "Steve, it's Mike. I'm here with you, Buddy Boy. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He watched the young man's eyelids intently but there wasn't so much as an answering flicker. The laboured breathing continued. "The doctors are going to fix you up real good, you hear. It's going to take a while but you're going to be good as new in a few weeks, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way, do you hear me?"

Still no response. Mike's chest heaved and he exhaled shakily. Roy put an arm on his shoulder.

"He's heavily sedated and out of it, Mike, and that can't be a bad thing. At least he's not in any pain."

"I know you're right, Roy, but I just wish he knew I was here."

"I think he knows, Mike, but he just can't show it."

The curtain was pulled to one side and Dr Cranmer entered the bay accompanied by a slightly younger man in a white coat. The man was of small stature, probably no more than 5 feet 7 inches and had a neat, trim beard and short dark hair. Despite his height he had a commanding presence.

"Mike, Roy... this is Dr Truman our orthopedic specialist. Dr Truman...this is Lieutenant Mike Stone and Lieutenant Roy Devitt. Mike is Steve's partner in the police department." The three men all shook hands.

"Gentlemen, I'm pleased to meet you both, though I'm sure you would wish it could have been in more auspicious circumstances. I'm here to examine this young man again and then Dr Cranmer and I will draw up a plan of action as to how we're going to treat him."

Mike cleared his throat and spoke. "Dr Cranmer says it's a bad break... his leg I mean."

"Well, yes I'm afraid it is. I first saw Inspector Keller thirty minutes ago and I've studied the initial X-rays, and I have to agree that it is bad, but I don't want you to worry unduly. It's far from a lost cause at this stage. There's been considerable blood loss into the surrounding tissues and that's why we're transfusing him, and Dr Cranmer has already started IV antibiotics to ward off infection. My main priority is to get that blood loss stopped, but the timing of the operation to fix his leg is a major concern. As you can hear, this young man is struggling somewhat to breathe freely due to the smoke inhalation. There is already some oedema of the trachea. I need to get him to surgery as soon as possible, so my proposal is that we intubate him and get him on a ventilator. With the machine breathing for him we can then get him up to the OR and proceed to stem the bleeding, reduce the dislocation and fix the fractures. Every moment that wound stays open to the air is a moment too long and a chance for bacteria to enter and do its damage. Having re-aligned the fractures, I won't be able to put him in a cast because of the open wound and the swelling, so he'll be fitted with an external fixator. It looks rather forbidding but it really is the best form of immobilisation in this case. I'm requesting further X-rays before we move him to theatre, then I'll want to proceed as soon as possible. Have you any questions gentlemen?"

Mike looked down on Steve, then lifted his head and looked back towards both doctors."What if the operation doesn't work? What if infection sets in? Is there a chance..." he stumbled over the words. "Is there a chance he could... he could... lose his leg?"

"Lieutenant Stone, you're jumping the gun a bit too soon here. I much prefer optimism to pessimism in my job. I find that mindset works a whole lot better than one that always expects the worst. I'm not denying the difficulties that could arise in the coming days and weeks ahead, but I prefer a sanguine approach towards my patients. I suggest you adopt the same sanguinity especially in front of Steve and we'll all pull together to hopefully get him back up on his feet in a few months. Now, are we in agreement? Good, then we'll crack on."

At a nod from Mike and Roy, Dr Truman turned to Dr Cranmer. "Now, George, let's have these two gents out of here so I can take a better look at my patient. Gentlemen, if you would kindly return to the waiting area I'd very much appreciate it. Thank you."

And with those brusque words of dismissal Mike gave a last look at Steve as he and Roy left the emergency bay and made their way back to the waiting room.

Mike was bristling with vexation. "Well, what did you think of him? He's a cocky devil I must say. I guess he knows his job alright but did the guy swallow a dictionary or something? What's with this sanguinity?"

"I think he means he wants you to stay positive, Mike."

"Well why doesn't he say so instead of bandying big words around! You know, I don't care for that man. He clearly suffers from 'small man syndrome'. I just hope he really does know his job or I'll be perfectly 'sanguine' about giving him the toe end of my boot! There's one thing I know for sure, Steve would understand him if he spoke like that in front of him. He's another that likes big words. He's always trying them out on me you know, trying to confuse me and trip me up. I've never studied a dictionary so much before as I have in the last three years since I took Steve on. There's not a day goes by that he doesn't come up with a new word. What's wrong with just using words of up to three syllables? Oh no, young whipper-snapper in there, he's never happy unless he's using five or more. I remember when we were investigating that baby snatch case more than a year ago, he accused me of wanting to live my life 'vicariously'. Thought he'd got me flummoxed. Hmph! I hate to say it, but he'd got me on that one. He's always coming up with new... " Mike muttered on under his breath.

Roy smiled as they walked down the corridor listening to Mike. He was going to be fine. The initial shock he first felt had been replaced by indignation at the manner Dr Truman had spoken to him. It had given him something else to focus on... got his hackles up. Yes, Mike always worked best when his hackles were raised. Roy thought, "It's to be hoped Dr Truman is excellent in his field. If he makes a mess of this I wouldn't like to be in his shoes if Mike gets hold of him."

They reached the waiting room and once again took up the seats they'd sat in before. It was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I have received some wonderful reviews, better than I ever could have hoped for, and I just want you all to know how very much I appreciate them. Thank you. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.

Chapter 4

As was Mike's wont all too often in circumstances like this, the waiting room became the focus of his world for the next several hours. Roy had left to return to the office but not before he'd extracted a promise from Mike to call him as soon as there was any fresh news. A questionable cheese and pickle sandwich, a Danish and about four or five insipid coffees later, one of the receptionists finally called him over to the desk.

"Lieutenant Stone. Dr Cranmer and Dr Truman would like you to go up to the ICU waiting room on the fourth floor. They'll be with you shortly."

"Is Steve out of surgery? Is he okay?"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant I have no further information than that, but I think it must mean he's out of surgery."

Mike nodded, went back to his seat and collected his smoke-stained raincoat and his fedora, and hurried past the reception desk towards the elevator.

"I hope all goes well for the Inspector. I'll pray for him, sir." The receptionist, who had watched Mike's anxious pacing back and forth for the last few hours, had a concerned look on her face and Mike managed a smile as he went past.

"Thank you, my dear. It's very kind of you. I appreciate that... and I'm sure Steve would too." He hurried towards the elevator, cursing under his breath when he saw the light showing it was already on the fourth floor so he would have to wait for it to return to the first floor. His anxiety began to grow, and he felt his stomach knotting and churning. It was the kind of feeling he always got when entering a dentist's surgery or, as he was getting more and more used to, when he was waiting for news of Steve from the doctors caring for him.

Please, God, let him be alright. He turned his fedora in his hands first one way then the other, the soft felt feeling comforting to the touch. A bell pinged, and the elevator doors opened. A young couple walked out with their arms around each other, the woman quietly sobbing on her partner's shoulder. Mike looked at them compassionately as they passed. They must have had bad news, poor devils. With worry lines etching his brow, he couldn't help but pray that wasn't him in a few minutes time.

He pressed the button for the fourth floor and, as he was carried upwards, he felt his stomach drop almost into his boots. He was the only one in the elevator and it didn't stop at any other floors. Suddenly there was a soft lurch and it came to a halt and the doors opened. He stepped out into a large reception area and crossed to the desk.

"Excuse me, I'm Lieutenant Mike Stone. Dr Cranmer and Dr Truman asked me to meet them here. I'm waiting for news of Inspector Steven Keller."

"Oh yes, Lieutenant. Would you like to go into the relatives' room over there behind you and to your left. They'll be with you shortly."

The relatives' room again! Dear God, how he hated those words. They always made him jittery. He entered and looked around. It hadn't changed from the last time he sat here whilst waiting for news of Steve. When was that? January?... no February... almost on Valentine's day. Steve had been trying to arrest a man and had caught a nasty blow to the head knocking him unconscious for several hours. As a precaution he'd been sent to the ICU and Mike had again waited for hours for news of his progress. On that occasion all had turned out well, and he could only hope the same would be said of this particular occasion. He was re-living those moments as he sat on a hard chair over by the window. The door opened and in walked Dr Cranmer, still dressed in theatre scrubs. Mike noted that at least he had a smile on his face and took a deep breath as he stood.

"Mike, do sit down, please. Dr Truman will be joining us shortly to better explain his part in the surgery, but I'll try and settle your concern right away by telling you that the rest of the surgery went well. I examined the puncture wound to his left arm and removed the piece of wood. Thankfully it didn't damage any vital nerves or tendons so that shouldn't pose a future problem. There was another deep laceration to his chest wall and another on his arm but, again, no serious internal damage. We also had our plastic surgeon, Dr Carr, on hand to repair the damage to Steve's face as neatly as he could whilst we had him under the anaesthetic, and I must say the repair looks excellent. He also assessed the burns with me and we're happy that they're very superficial and won't need skin grafts. A couple of weeks and they should heal well. From my point of view, other than his leg, he's a very lucky fellow to escape so lightly. I believe Dr Truman is very pleased with the results he's been able to achieve too, but he'll update you more when he gets here. Steve's still in recovery and he'll remain there for the next couple of hours, then we'll move him into the ICU and you can see him then. He's still on the ventilator I'm afraid. Dr Ramona, the anesthesiologist, did try to ease him off it, but the trachea is still quite oedematous so we're leaving him on it and keeping him sedated for the next few hours till he feels happy to try him off it again, though Dr Ramona is very pleased that the drugs we've given him have reduced the swelling considerably. We don't want to strain his lungs and breathing at this early post-op stage, so we'll continue to let the ventilator breathe for him for a while longer."

"Thank God, Dr Cranmer. I can't tell you what a relief it is to hear you say that and I appreciate all that you and Dr Carr and Dr Truman have done for Steve. I've been going through all kinds of scenarios in my head whilst I've been waiting. It's the leg that worries me the most and any effect it may have on his future as a serving police officer. His career means a hell of a lot to him and, I might add, to his superiors. They, and myself, see a very bright future for him within the department. Now I know Dr Truman advised staying optimistic but it's not easy I can tell you. He's... er... rather... er... curt isn't he... Dr Truman? Has rather an unusual bedside manner I have to say though, as long as he knows his job, I suppose I shouldn't complain." Mike smiled at the other man who chuckled back.

"Mike, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say he is a very good orthopaedic surgeon and we're very lucky to have him on our staff. I agree his manner is a little... shall we say... unusual to say the least, but his work is exemplary as I have just witnessed. Your partner has the best chance for full recovery from his leg injuries under Dr Truman's care. In light of that I think we can excuse him a few foibles, don't you?"

"We certainly can," said Mike as he grinned broadly. "I apologise if you think I spoke out of turn. I'm just not used to someone being so... outspoken."

"Not at all. I'll let you into a secret... me neither." He smiled broadly and winked at Mike. The door opened behind him and, looking over his shoulder, he turned to greet Dr Truman as he walked into the room pulling the green surgical cap off his head as he did so.

"Ah, Dr Truman, Mike here is anxiously waiting to speak to you. I've already given him a brief outline of Steve's post-op condition."

"Well, I'll keep this brief as I don't have long. I need to check on Inspector Keller again shortly and I do have other patients under my care. I presume Dr Cranmer has given you the main facts, so I'll just tell you that I've managed to relocate the dislocated knee. There was some ligament damage due to strain but no actual tearing of the ligaments, so rest will put that to rights in time. As he won't be mobile for quite a while he'll get plenty of the rest that his knee needs, but we also need to guard against the knee seizing up so he'll be started on physical therapy as soon as we reasonably can. We have to walk a very fine line between rest and mobility. As for the fractures... they are nasty, but I've seen worse. Fortunately, one was reasonably clean and as for the other... well... there was some splintering but I was able to wire the pieces back together and I've pinned and plated the fractures which have come back into alignment reasonably well. There is a great deal of bleeding into the surrounding tissue which will take some time to re-absorb into the body, and there's also some torn muscle especially around the area of the compound part of the fracture. As I said, I've pinned and plated the fractures and attached an external fixator to the leg which will very much limit his mobility, but it's a necessary piece of equipment I'm afraid. We must, of course, continue to guard against infection with antibiotic therapy and good nursing hygiene. All that being said, I'm hopeful of a good outcome, but it's going to take a great deal of patience on your partner's part and also a great deal of dedication on his part to adhere to the physical therapy programme that will be set for him. I hope you understand that his recovery is not going to be a five-minute job. A patient mindset will reap the highest reward. Is he a patient man, Lieutenant? In my experience, few men of the his age have the patience to comply fully with my instructions and the instructions of their physical therapists. They always want to run before they can walk... if you'll pardon the pun. Patience and perseverance to the recovery routine comes better with age. As I've said the young are far too impatient."

Mike had listened patiently to all he'd been told but he didn't like the tone Dr Truman had taken. "Steve may be young, Dr Truman, but he is not a stereotypical young man. He's very mature, way beyond his years, and I'm sure he'll want to do all he can to hasten his recovery, and if that means co-operating with complete and wholehearted commitment to all he's asked to do by you and the physical therapists, then that's what he'll do. I know him better than anyone and I know he'll want a complete recovery so that he can return to his career in the police department as soon as he is physically able. You have my word he won't do anything to jeopardise that." Mike was shaking with subdued anger by the time he had finished his speech. How dare Dr Truman make assumptions about Steve and his attitude to recovery. He hadn't even spoken to Steve personally yet, the kid being totally unconscious all the time he was in the emergency room.

Dr Truman glowered at Mike. "Mmm! I think I hit a raw nerve there, Lieutenant, did I not? You must understand I have more experience of physical trauma in the young than you have, but I am prepared to accept that I shouldn't judge a book by its cover. For the time being therefore I'll reserve judgement. I'll do my very best for your partner, but I'll expect total compliance with my instructions in return. Now, if you'll excuse me I do have other duties to attend to. Good day to you, Lieutenant." Mike almost felt a chill breeze as Dr Truman turned and walked briskly out of the room.

"Mike, I think you'd better sit down. You're shaking. I know what you're thinking and you're right. Dr Truman is brusque, possibly to the point of blatant rudeness, but just keep telling yourself he's the best person to have fighting in Steve's corner. If anyone can get Steve back to full fitness he can. Everything he said is correct... though I'll admit he could possibly have voiced it a little less bluntly. Is all that true about Steve? Does he have the patience needed?"

Mike looked up at Dr Cranmer with a twinkle in his eye. "Steve is probably the most impatient young man you'll ever come across and in his capacity as a hospital patient he can be totally impossible," Mike laughed guardedly, "but I'll threaten and cajole that young man and I'll hog-tie him to the bed if I have to before I'll give Dr Truman the satisfaction of proving himself right and me wrong. I will personally ensure that Steve is a model patient even if I die in the attempt."

And with those words ringing in his ears Dr Cranmer reached forward and grasped Mike's shoulder giving it a squeeze. "This is something I must see, Lieutenant!" The amusement on his face told of him looking forward to witnessing the possible clashes to come between the Lieutenant and his partner. "Steve will remain in recovery for the next few hours and, when I'm happy that he's stable, he'll be moved to the ICU. You can see him then and someone will come and fetch you. Oh, and by the way, I will be in charge of his general care whilst he's here and it looks like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the hospital over the next few weeks, so I'd be happy if you'd reciprocate allowing me to call you Mike by calling me George." He turned to walk away from Mike, hesitated, then turned back again. "Dr Truman will be responsible for Steve's orthopaedic care and, just in case you were thinking of asking... Dr Truman is always known as Dr Truman." He then turned again and walked out of the room leaving nothing but a chuckle behind him and a man holding a fedora talking to himself.

"Buddy Boy, I fear we're going to have a battle on our hands and for once you're going to do as you're told, and I won't accept no for an answer or be held responsible for the consequences if you don't."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Okay, Roy, I'll be sure to pass on your best wishes, and those of the boys, when I'm allowed in to see Steve... Yes, I'm hoping it won't be too long now. Once I've seen him, and if I feel comfortable leaving him, I'll go by his apartment on the way home and pick up some things for him... Yes, I'll find them easily enough. He keeps a holdall permanently packed now for just such eventualities. We call it his 'hospital bag'. It saves me having to go rooting round his bathroom and bedroom for stuff for him... Well, yes, I guess it was my idea, but he went along with it readily enough when we decided a couple of years ago that it might be a good idea. If truth be told, I have the same kind of hospital bag in readiness at my house too, though I must admit, it hasn't been used anywhere near as many times as Steve's has... Okay, I'll keep you posted. Goodnight."

He replaced the receiver on the phone on the reception desk and suppressed a nervous chuckle that wanted to escape. It really wasn't anything to laugh about. The idea of the joint hospital bags was born of necessity seeming a reasonable idea at the time. Mike just wished he hadn't had to fetch it quite as often as he had over the last few years. He sat back down again on the lounger in the waiting room wondering if he should pour another cup of coffee. Could he even stomach another cup of coffee? Thank goodness the hospital didn't charge for use of the rest room facilities otherwise he'd probably be bankrupt!

"Lieutenant. You can come and see Inspector Keller now if you'll follow me. I'm sorry you've had such a long wait but it's our policy not to allow visitors in the recovery room in case we need to act fast to respond to a patient's urgent needs." The white uniformed nurse smiled brightly at Mike. She really was a very pretty girl.

Mike grinned and thoughts ran through his head as he followed her that he hoped this wasn't another who was going to swoon at Steve's feet. "That's okay, Nurse, I understand. I take it this means he's improving then. Oh, and please call him Steve. He doesn't like formality... and I'm Mike by the way."

"Oh, he's doing fine... er... Mike, thank you. I'm Felicity Wareing better known as Flick. We still have him heavily sedated but Dr Cranmer has liaised with Dr Ramona and they're going to lighten the sedation in the morning with a view to trying him off the ventilator. If all goes well he may be conscious and able to speak to you tomorrow. That's the plan... hopefully. Some can be taken off the ventilator sooner than others. It will depend on how Steve progresses." She smiled sweetly again at Mike who couldn't help but look at her and think that he could sense trouble brewing here.

She led Mike into the ICU, past several other occupied bays, and into a curtained-off cubicle. Steve was lying almost flat under a sheet pretty much as he was in the ER with IV lines in both arms, but now with a tube from the ventilator inserted into his mouth and down into his windpipe. There were wires running from pads attached to his chest to a heart monitor which was beeping rhythmically. Another tube emerged from under the covers in the area below Steve's waist and into a bag suspended by a hook on the frame of the bed. Mike sighed and thought that Steve wouldn't like that. He couldn't decide if the constant rhythmical whoosh of the ventilator was annoying or reassuring. There were numerous scratches on his face and into his hair-line, and there was a dressing on Steve's cheek, but it was much smaller than before and, reassuringly, not blood soaked. There were also dressings on both his forearms. The sheet was pulled up almost to his collar bones, so Mike wasn't able to see the other dressing that he knew must be on the right side of his chest. Then Mike forced his eyes to look at Steve's left leg lying outside the cover, resting on two pillows and supported in a sling hanging from above the bed. The whole area of Steve's thigh was a deep purple colour. That, combined with the metalwork of the frame attached to his leg, looked repugnant to him. He forced himself to look at the individual points where the metal rods were inserted through the skin of his thigh, and the swollen flesh around them. His knee was badly swollen, and ice-packs had been placed either side it. Mike felt his stomach churn and he began to tremble. He knew he had to force himself to breathe deeply, push down the nausea, and not look away from the sight in front of him. He was going to be seeing plenty of this, so he may as well get used to it. He needed to be strong for Steve. Thoughts raced through his mind and he voiced them aloud. "God knows how he'll feel when he wakes up and sees the frame."

"I know at first sight it can be quite daunting, but every nut, screw, bolt and rod has its purpose. It looks worse than it is. Are you okay?" Flick quietly asked and placed her hand on his arm pushing him down towards the chair at the side of Steve's bed. She took a long understanding pause. "You'll get used to it."

"Will he... er... be in much pain... when he wakes up?"

"Yes, I'm afraid he will be, but rest assured we'll keep his pain under the best control we can."

Mike cast his eyes back up to Steve's face again. The machine was breathing for him, so he could only be thankful that his breathing didn't sound as rasping as it did before he was put onto it. He reached out and put his hand on Steve's arm. "Do you think he can hear me if I speak to him?"

"He may be able to, some do, but some are so deeply unconscious that when they wake they say that they've heard nothing. It could be that they hear but just don't remember. I always think there's a chance they can, so it might help, and it certainly can't do any harm. Now, I'm going to leave you with him. The monitors will tell me if there's a problem but, if you're worried, just call me. The bell's right there." And with that she quietly slipped through the curtains leaving a deeply troubled Mike alone with the young man on the hospital bed.

He spent the next few minutes just quietly observing Steve. There were numerous scratches on his face but only the one under the dressing on his cheek worried him. As Dr Cranmer... George... had said, Steve's a good-looking guy, in fact, Mike thought, a veritable babe magnet and a lady-killer, and he wouldn't want to be left disfigured. Mike smiled to himself at his description of Steve. That would really ruin the boy's chances. On the other hand, would it? Knowing Steve and his charm, it might even make him more attractive to women. Mike grinned again. In fact he'd lay a bet on it that Steve would be able to turn it to his advantage with the ladies.

He continued to study this young man with infinite admiration and affection. The fact that he had entered the burning house in the first place hadn't surprised him. As usual, when faced with placing himself in danger, the kid showed no fear and just ploughed right in but, having found Mr Sanchez on the stairs and then having passed him on to his partner to get him out, Steve then proceeded to put himself in the most extreme danger by carrying on up the already burning staircase in search of the baby still trapped somewhere in the house. Mike's heart swelled and his breathing faltered. He could feel himself welling up again as he contemplated the fact that he knew, without a single doubt, that no way would Steve have given up in his attempt to rescue the child... that he would have given his own life before he would've given up on that baby. The thought of abandoning the search and saving himself just wouldn't have occurred to him.

He drew in a shuddering breath, reached into his pocket for his handkerchief which was now starting to look decidedly grubby and, for possibly the hundredth time that day since they rounded the corner and saw the blazing house, he wiped his eyes.

"Steve Keller," he spoke aloud though quietly, "worrying over you will probably cause the death of me one day." He continued to sit quietly whilst applying light pressure to Steve's arm. He bowed his head and, for the umpteenth time that day, in the quiet of the bay with only the heart monitor beeping incessantly and the ventilator controlling every inhalation and exhalation of air for Steve, he offered up a silent prayer.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Mike, why don't you go home and get some rest? Steve's stable and deeply asleep. He won't wake whilst you're gone. You've sat there for the past two hours and you need sleep too. You'll be all the better for it and better able to support Steve too if you've had some quality rest. Dozing in a chair can't be comfortable."

Mike stretched and arched his back to ease the aching strain on his muscles. He hadn't heard the nurse re-enter the cubicle. He knew she spoke sense. He looked back once more at Steve. "I do believe I will, Flick." He looked at his watch. It was just past midnight. Just the thought of the last twenty-four hours and all that had taken place caused a wave of sheer exhaustion to pass through him. "Will you call me if anything... er... untoward happens? My contact details at home and at work are in Steve's file."

"I promise I will. I understand you're listed as next-of-kin. Is that correct? Is there no family to be contacted?"

"No, no family... at least... no blood family. Since he became my partner three years ago, we've kind of absorbed him into our family... my daughter, Jeannie, and myself. I always wanted a son but my wife, well she almost died giving birth to Jeannie so..." he paused briefly then went on, "well we were content with one healthy child. She was our world... still is... that's to say... my world. My wife died 5 years ago and since then, until Steve came along, it was just Jeannie and myself. Now, well... I feel deep inside me that I have a son and a daughter. That's how we both feel. I'm a very lucky man."

Nurse Wareing could see and feel the emotion emanating from within the older man. She could also sense how very tired he was. "Go home, Mike... I'll look after him. Tomorrow's another day."

Mike glanced at Steve, looked back at the capable nurse, and nodded. He picked up his fedora from the foot of the bed and his raincoat from the back of the chair and walked out of the cubicle, through the ICU and along the corridor to the elevator. No-one saw him go but, if they had, they'd have seen how his feet had a slight drag to them and the evident stoop to his shoulders as if he carried the weight of the world upon them. He rang Roy from the public payphone in the entrance hall before he prepared to leave the hospital and updated him on Steve's condition. He explained he was going home for some rest and would return early the next morning.

"You don't have your car. Stay where you are and I'll detail a black and white to pick you up and drop you home."

"Now, Roy, isn't that classed as misuse of a department vehicle?" he chuckled drily.

"I think, on this occasion, we can stretch the rules a bit, don't you? I'll pull rank and I'll cop any flack if there is any... but I'm sure there won't be."

"Thanks, Roy, I appreciate it." And he sat on a chair in the entrance hall to wait for his lift home.

Arriving back at the house on De Haro Street he quickly removed his outer clothes and had a quick wash and, promising himself a shower in the morning, climbed into bed. He was worried his brain would be too active for sleep, but his fears were for nothing. As soon as his head touched the pillow, the arms of Morpheus claimed him, and he drifted away into a deep sleep.

The ringing of the phone woke him. He was startled out of a deep sleep and reached out clumsily for it. Before he could speak, the horrors of the previous day swarmed through his brain and his stomach lurched. He looked at the clock... 8.55 am. He was appalled. He never thought he would sleep that long. He should've set his alarm.

"Hello, Stone!" he barked into the phone.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Stone. This is the ICU at the General. I'm Nurse Lowe. I'm sorry if I've woken you up."

Panic seized him. "That's alright. I... er... I've overslept. It's more than time I was up. Is Steve okay? Has something happened?"

"Inspector Keller is doing well, Lieutenant. I've been asked to inform you that Dr Cranmer and Dr Ramona have lightened his sedation this morning preparatory to trying him off the ventilator. Dr Cranmer thought you would want to know."

"Oh yes, indeed I do. Thank you. I'll be with you as soon as I can." He returned the phone to the rest and swung his legs out of bed then quickly showered, shaved and dressed in clean clothes. He swallowed a cup of coffee, grabbed his personal car keys and left his house. As he descended the steps to the pavement he remembered Steve's 'hospital bag'. Mustn't forget that, he thought as he got in the sedan and sped off in the direction of Steve's apartment on Union Street. As he let himself into Steve's home it crossed his mind to wonder how long would it be before Steve again crossed the threshold and returned home? No sense worrying now about that. He made a mental note to come back later and check the fridge and larder cupboards and, after collecting the bag, he returned to his car, made his way to the hospital, parked in an empty bay and hurried across the tarmac to the double doors of the entrance. Once again, he took the elevator to the fourth floor, exited and made his way along the corridor to the ICU. The whole of the time since he got out of bed till the time he walked towards the bay surrounded by blue curtains, his brain never left the thought of his partner and what he was going to have to endure over the coming weeks and maybe months.

He was approached by a short, somewhat stocky nurse of maybe forty five or fifty years old. "Lieutenant Stone? It is Lieutenant Stone isn't it? I was told to look out for a gentleman in a fedora." He nodded thinking there were worse ways she could have used to describe him. "I'm Nurse Moira Lowe, Lieutenant. I was the one who phoned you earlier. Would you please take a seat over there", she pointed to some empty chairs against the wall. "Dr Cranmer and Dr Ramona are in with Steve at the moment."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Stop worrying. It'll make you old before your time," she smiled.

"Ain't that the truth! I brought a bag with some things in for him, toiletries, night clothes that sort of thing."

"Thanks, but for the moment we won't be needing those. Just leave them by his bed till we need them."

"What happened to Flick... er... Nurse Wareing?"

"She's night staff, Lieutenant. I'm Steve's day nurse. You can call me Moira if you wish."

Mike exhaled deeply and grinned shaking his head. A quiet "Phew!" escaped from under his breath. Steve was unlikely to be distracted by this 'mature, no-nonsense' lady he thought.

Nurse Lowe looked intently at him. "Is anything wrong, Lieutenant. You seem... I don't know... almost... well... surprised as well as relieved."

"Moira, you don't know the half of it. And it's Mike... please," he grinned broadly. "How's my boy? Is he really doing okay?"

"Yes, he is, Mike. The doctors took him off the ventilator about half an hour ago. He struggled a little at first and it's taken a little while to settle him, but he's stable now and he's breathing for himself. They're just talking to him now and putting him in the picture as to his injuries and he's talking to them too. You'll be able to see him shortly. Please excuse me. I must get back to them." She turned away from him then momentarily turned back. "Truly, he's okay."

Mike turned the fedora over and smoothed the brim. Steve was okay. He was off the ventilator. He was breathing for himself and he was talking to the doctors. He was… well... he was okay. That's just what he'd been longing to hear. Tears sprung to his eyes, his chest heaved and his heart lifted. His Buddy Boy was okay.

Another ten minutes passed before Dr Cranmer and Dr Ramona left the curtained bay and walked towards him. "Ah, Mike, this is Dr Ramona our anaesthesiologist. The two men shook hands. "You'll be pleased to hear he was able to successfully wean Steve off the ventilator."

"That's such a relief to hear." He looked at Dr Ramona. "And he's breathing for himself?" he asked the other man.

"He most certainly is. Please understand his airways are still very sore at this stage but he's been able to converse, somewhat raspingly of course, but he's able to sustain speech. Unless any other complications arise with his breathing my job here is done and I'll leave him in Dr Cranmer's capable hands. It was nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Do excuse me now. Good-day." He smiled and nodded to them both and left.

"Mike, I'll let you go to him. I know he's anxious to see you. We've explained his injuries to him, but we haven't gone into too much detail about his leg and what's ahead of him at this early stage. I suggest you do the same and keep it light. Go easy with him... not too much talking on his part please. These things can't be rushed. He's on strong painkillers so he's not as clear-headed as you might wish. Don't press him too much to remember things. It'll all come back soon enough."

Mike held his hand out and they shook hands. "Thank you, George, thank you. I'm just as anxious to see him." Dr Cranmer watched as Mike opened the curtains and passed through, then he turned and walked back to the nurses' station to update Steve's chart.

Mike entered the curtained cubicle and feasted his eyes on Steve like a hungry man seeking food. Steve's green eyes stared back at him.

"Hey, Mike." His voice was so faint it was almost inaudible.

"Hey yourself." Mike's eyes welled up as he took in the sight of his partner, bruised, battered but very much alive. "You do know I've died a thousand deaths in the last thirty-six hours don't you? You're a bloody fool but a damn brave one. I swear you'll send me to an early grave before much longer."

"Sorry Mike," Steve croaked and swallowed painfully. A solitary tear slowly overflowed from his right eye and ran down his cheek to be absorbed into the dressing below, and he held out his hand towards Mike.

Stepping towards him, Mike grasped Steve's hand and pulled the chair up close to the bed and sat down. He put his hand on the younger man's head and ruffled his hair very gently. Then he let his hand drop to Steve's neck and slowly crept his fingers behind Steve's right ear and gently squeezed the back of his neck. That gesture alone spoke volumes to Steve.

"I thought I'd lost you, Buddy Boy. You have no idea how you've almost reduced me to my knees. I know you have trouble believing in Him," he pointed his index finger upwards, "but I've prayed like I've never prayed since I lost Helen, and I thank God it wasn't without reward. He listened, and He gave you back to me."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Once more I'd like to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. I'd especially like to thank Helenem and JEM for their continued support even though Real Life is not easy for either of them at the moment. Thinking of you both and sending virtual hugs.

Chapter 7

"Are you in much pain?" Mike asked as he cast his eyes over the length of Steve's body.

"It's not too bad," Steve spoke quietly and with a rasp in his voice. A nasal cannula was supplying him with a steady supply of oxygen. "They've told me I'm pretty well topped up with morphine but I'm to ask for more as and when I need it. It's quite a strange feeling... like I've got a hangover but without the benefit of having enjoyed the night before. How about you?" He pointed towards the bandage on Mike's left hand.

"Oh that. It's nothing... honestly. Just a minor burn. I stumbled taking the weight of Mr Sanchez out of the house and put my hand on the door jamb. Stupid thing to do seeing as it was burning at the time. It's been dressed. It's nothing... really. Roy and the boys send their best wishes. No doubt they'll be in to see you when you're up to having visitors, which won't be for a while yet, I don't suppose."

"What about the family from the house?" Steve moistened his lips and clenched his jaw. "The baby... is she... did she... make it? Did I get her out in time?" He asked as he coughed painfully.

"Yes, you did. One of the nurses was permitted to give me an update. The baby, Rosa, is still critical in the Paediatric ICU." Steve seemed to shudder and closed his eyes. He was struggling to hold his emotions in check and Mike put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Please don't upset yourself. You must understand that, though she is critical and still on a ventilator, I've been assured that she is making good progress. At this stage, there's a strong chance she'll make it and that's solely down to you. You gave her that chance of life when no-one else could. You need to hold on to that thought." Mike grasped Steve's hand. "Look at me, Steve." He touched Steve's chin. "Look at me." Steve opened his eyes and stared into the blue eyes of his dearest friend. "Even if she doesn't make it... you gave her that chance. You! It's in the hands of God and the medical team now."

There was a silence between them for a moment or two as Steve took in all that Mike had said. "And her father? Will he make it?"

"Yes, he will. He has milder smoke inhalation but burns to various parts of his body that will mean a long road ahead of him of skin grafts, but you got him out in time too."

"And you did. You were the one that carried him out."

"But you were the one who found him, Steve. His survival is mostly down to you more than me. Anyway, what's with this point scoring, heh? We both did good but you... you were exceptional." Mike could see Steve was getting really very emotional and the last thing he needed was to be upset. It was so unlike him to be so deeply affected like this, but he'd been through an awful ordeal and he guessed the drugs were affecting his mental functioning somewhat too. "Listen, I think that's enough talking for now. I think you should rest. Maybe get some shut-eye for a bit. You've only been conscious and off the ventilator for about an hour or so and it's been a lot to take in. Get some rest and we'll talk again later. Okay?"

"Okay, Mike, but will you stay... please?" His voice was becoming faint but still audible.

"Oh yes, I'll stay. I'm not going anywhere just yet. Now close those eyes and allow yourself to drift off. I'll still be here. I promise."

Reassured by the feel of Mike's hand on his arm and the promise that he wasn't going to leave him, Steve did as he was told and within a minute or two his even breathing told Mike he was peacefully asleep.

Mike sat and watched him and listened to his strained breathing, and he looked down occasionally to see the hands of his watch slowly move around the dial. His mind wandered. Considering how long folks sit watching their loved ones in ICU, you'd think they'd provide more comfortable chairs, he thought, once again uncrossing his legs and, shifting the weight from one rapidly numbing buttock to the other, he then crossed his legs again.

The curtains around the bed were parted and Moira stepped through. She had a mug in her hand. "I thought you might need some sustenance, so I've brought you some coffee. I wasn't sure how you liked it so I took a chance and put milk in but I've brought three sugar cubes and a spoon just in case. There's a small packet of cookies too. How's he been?" She nodded towards Steve and reached forward to feel his pulse.

"Moira, you're a life saver. Thank you. I came out in such a rush this morning I skipped breakfast." He took the mug from her hand. "I'll just take one of the sugars, thanks." He stirred it into his coffee and then looked at Steve. "He's not so bad. We didn't talk for long. I felt it tired him... you know... the emotion of it all. He was asking about the baby and her father and he got a little upset. My mother always used to say 'sleep is the best healer' so I persuaded him to sleep for a while. He's been like that for about the last thirty minutes or so."

"That's absolutely fine. You did the right thing and your mother was right. Sleep is what he needs right now. His emotions will be all over the place. Thankfully, other than his leg, his other injuries are remarkably slight. Dr Cranmer is coming to see him again after lunch and, if all's well, we're moving him out of the ICU later today and down to a room on the second floor. He'll still need close watching of course, but we should be able to safely remove the monitors. Now, what about you? I have some things I need to check with Steve, so I think you should go take a little walk and come back in about fifteen minutes. I should be finished by then."

"I told him I wouldn't leave him."

"Mike, even you need to use the rest room sometimes," she raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Now go. I won't leave him till you get back. Fifteen minutes, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am I hear you." Mike left the cubicle with his mug of coffee in his hand. It smelled good and tasted even better. It was just what he needed. He walked down the corridor to the public payphone and rang Roy and brought him up to date. Then he went into the relatives' room and sat on a comfy sofa to drink his coffee and eat the cookies. It was much cooler in here, less stuffy. The ICU was so warm. He rested his head back and breathed deeply and evenly allowing the caffeine to permeate through his body. It did the trick and he felt more refreshed. Mug emptied, he placed it on the table, looked at his watch and went to return to the ICU to take up his vigil beside Steve once more. As he walked down the corridor he passed the public rest room and, mindful of Moira's playful tease, he stepped inside.

On re-entering Steve's cubicle, he noted a fresh bag of saline had been hooked up, the catheter bag had been replaced with a fresh one and the ice-packs had been removed. There was also a beaker of water on the cabinet at the side. It looked like a baby's feeding cup.

"Hi, Mike. Feel better?" she asked.

"Yes, much better, thanks. Doesn't he need the ice packs any more?"

"It's not safe to leave them there all the time. It's usually thirty minutes every two hours. He hasn't woken, though he stirred once or twice, especially when I removed the ice-packs. When he does wake, can you please encourage him to drink some water. Those moist sponges we use are okay, but we need him to drink now. If he keeps it down, I'll bring him a weak coffee in a while."

"Tea please. Steve prefers tea if that's okay. Milk, no sugar. He only drinks coffee when he's typing endless reports for me and needs to stay awake."

She grinned, "Then tea it will be. Oh, and I got one of the orderlies to move a softer chair in here from the nurses' lounge. I thought you'd appreciate it." The small cushioned armchair with wooden arms had replaced the hard, upright, plastic chair that Mike had previously sat on.

"Moira, how do you do that?"

"How do I do what?"

"Have that uncanny knack of knowing what I need and when I need it?"

"I'm an ICU nurse, Mike. I've seen lots of families pass through here. It's not rocket science. Now I'm off to see to my other patients. If there's anything you need just press the bell and one of us will come."

"Thank you." Mike sat and took up his lonely vigil once more... albeit on a comfier chair.

And so set the pattern for the next few hours. Every thirty minutes Moira would come in and check the monitors and do whatever else she needed to do to ensure Steve's comfort. The blood transfusion bag was taken down when it was empty and not replaced, but the saline was continued, and another bag of antibiotic was put up to be slowly dripped in alongside the saline. Ice packs were replaced from time to time. Whenever she checked Steve, Mike would briefly leave the room to stretch his legs. He found a copy of yesterday's newspaper, bought a coffee from the machine and then returned once again when Moira was finished.

Steve continued to sleep but, as nearly five hours passed since Mike's vigil began, Steve began to get a little restless. Mike could see him wincing from time to time and then he began to flinch and moan. He wondered if he should wake him as the moans grew louder, but the decision was taken out of his hands as Steve suddenly cried out and opened his eyes. He seemed awfully agitated and looked around the cubicle until his eyes rested on Mike.

"Hey, Buddy Boy, it's okay. I'm here." He leaned forward and took Steve's hand which the young man gripped hard.

"Mike... the pain... it's pretty bad... in fact... it's... awful." Steve writhed and bit down on his lower lip as hot, stabbing pains shot through his thigh.

Mike gripped his hand tighter with one hand as he pressed the buzzer for the nurse with the other."Hang on, Steve, I've called for the nurse. She'll be here soon."

Steve cried out again and seconds later the curtains parted, and Moira came in bearing a kidney dish with a syringe and an antiseptic wipe.

"Moira, Steve's in bad pain, he's..." he saw the kidney dish. "How did you know?"

"I heard him, besides it's been over four hours since I gave him his last meds. I guessed he'd be getting restless soon and you'd be calling for help. Now, Steve, just try and relax. I'm going to give you something to ease the pain. It'll work quite quickly, and you'll feel a lot more comfortable soon." She swabbed his upper arm and quickly administered the injection and then swabbed again. Steve didn't even flinch. The pain he was in was so bad he didn't even notice the pain of the shot. "Shush... shush. That's it, just breathe deeply...don't try and fight it... let the meds take over... just relax. That's the ticket." She continued to speak soothingly as Steve continued to writhe and gasp but, after a few minutes, he began to slowly settle and quieten. The whole time Mike's eyes never left Steve's face. He couldn't bear to see him so distressed and in such pain.

"See, I told you it would work quickly." Moira eased back from the bed removing her steadying hand from Steve's arm.

Another few minutes passed, and Steve was breathing more evenly again as he relaxed his tightened lips. "That's some good stuff you have there, Nurse," he managed to utter weakly and then coughed a little breathlessly.

"It's my magic potion. Works every time." She patted his arm and wiped the sweat that was glistening on Steve's brow. "You feeling better now?"

"Yes, much better. Thanks."

"We need to catch you slightly earlier next time your meds are due, before the severe pain starts to break through. When you're deeply asleep like you were we're not aware that the pain is building and so we don't get a lot of warning and it tends to break through quite suddenly. Any time you feel the pain starting you must let me know. Got it?"

"Got it. Thanks. Though it's a bit hard to know it's coming when I'm asleep." He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax and let the drugs take over.

Mike spoke quietly to Moira, "That was scary to see Steve in so much pain. I didn't like that one bit, but I guess both he and I are going to have to get used to it."

In an aside to Mike, Moira replied quietly, "The meds are written up for every four hours. The pain shouldn't have broken through that badly. I'll speak to Dr Cranmer to see if he'll increase the dose." She raised her voice a little more and spoke to them both. "Now you're more comfortable I'll leave you two gentlemen for a moment. Dr Cranmer is on his way up to see Steve. I'll just get rid of this kidney dish." She parted the curtain and left.

Mike looked at his young partner on the bed. His eyes were closed, and he kept licking his lips and coughing dryly, as though it clearly hurt his chest to cough. Mike picked up the beaker of water. "Here, the nurse left some water for you. I'm supposed to encourage you to drink. Will you have some?"

"Please, Mike. I'm so dry." His throat still hurt from the breathing tube that had been connected to the ventilator and he coughed painfully.

Mike put his hand behind Steve's neck, eased his head up and put the beaker with the four holes in the top to his lips, and Steve sucked deeply. "Hey, not so fast. Just small sips. You don't want to start choking. That's better. Small sips. That's right. Enough?" Steve nodded, and Mike put the beaker back on the cabinet.

"Phew! I don't want to have to go through that again. The pain was bad, Mike. So bad." He looked down at his leg, studied it for a while, grimaced and looked back to Mike. "It's a mess isn't it? I really messed up well this time, didn't I?" His eyes were downcast and he had a forlorn look about him.

"You certainly did but... it could've been worse."

"Could it?" Steve's voice rose a little. The fear of more pain like that and the sight of his leg was causing him to become more irritable. "Look at me. Look at my leg. Look at the state I'm in. I'm probably never going to walk again... at least not normally." Fear made his voice rise higher.

"Calm down now. Shush. Calm down. It's early days and far too soon to be talking like that." He needed to try to keep Steve calm.

"How can I be calm when I have to see this every time I look down? Would you be calm if it was you?" His voice continued to rise, but the higher it went the more raspy it sounded till he almost couldn't get the words out.

Mike knew he had to try and lighten Steve's mood. "No, I guess I'd be just as agitated and getting myself in a stew as you're doing now. Look here, Buddy Boy, you have to look on the bright side."

"The bright side? You mean there is one? Tell me, oh wise one, with your infinite wisdom, how could it possibly be worse than this?"

"You know me. There's always a bright side to everything if you look hard enough. Apart from your leg you really did get off very lightly. For the most part you were saved from multiple serious injuries by the bush that broke your fall and, considering how much damage you've done to your leg, think how much worse it could have been if that bush hadn't been there." Mike didn't dare tell Steve that, but for the bush, he would almost certainly have been killed.

"A bush? A bush broke my fall?"

"It sure did. How do you think you got all those scratches? It was a big beautiful viburnum. Pretty pink flowers but an appalling stink at times. I never thought I could love a viburnum as much as I love that one." Mike was grinning.

"And you think with all this," he gestured to his leg,"you still think I'm lucky? You still think it could've been worse?"

Mike's voice rose as he knew he had to make his point heard. "Well, Buddy Boy, you could've landed on your head!" And with that retort he waited for that thought to sink in.

Steve stared at Mike and the Stone glare stared back at Steve, and then the young man's eyes began to crinkle at the corners and his lips lifted in a smile. "Oh, you are bad, Mike, you are really bad." And with that they both began to laugh, Steve weakly and with an occasional cough, and Mike not so quietly but trying to stifle his sniggers as he took care to be mindful of where they were and the other sick people around them.

Mike couldn't help but feel it was so good to hear his boy laugh. He had anticipated there would be an issue with Steve's fear and worry. Who wouldn't be worried when there was a long road ahead of him with, he was sure, quite a few stumbling blocks along the way, but as long as he could find a way to get Steve to see sense and work through the pain and make him laugh now and again, they'd be alright. And Mike was determined to get him through whatever lay ahead, he was certain of that.

The curtain parted and in stepped Dr Cranmer closely followed by Moira.

"Well it's good to see you laughing, young man, or is it the drugs? When did he have his last dose of morphine, Nurse?"

"About twenty minutes ago Doctor. His pain was very bad, so I gave him the full dose of morphine that he was written up for. It seems to have eased his pain. In fact, by the look of him it looks to have gone straight to his head."

And hearing that, another look passed between Steve and Mike and they both dissolved into quiet laughter again.

"Is this a private joke, gentlemen, or can anyone join in?" asked Dr Cranmer smiling broadly at them both. Their laughter really was infectious.

"Sorry, George. It was just something Moira said that set us off again. Steve, behave yourself. Pull yourself together. I think it's the morphine, George. It seems to have sent him a little high."

"And what about you, Mike? You seem a little high too. What's your excuse? Have you been on the morphine as well as Steve, or did Moira here put something in your coffee?"

"Er... no sir, sorry sir." Mike took a deep, steadying breath and cast a concentrated glare at Steve willing him to calm down.

"Seriously, I guess it's good to see you two laughing. At least I can see a vast improvement in you, young man." He picked up Steve's chart. "How have his obs been Moira? Are they stable?"

"Yes, Doctor. They've been checked every half hour and his pulse, BP and temperature are all within normal limits. His urine output is good and," she looked at the beaker then at Mike who gave an almost imperceptible nod, "and he's been taking fluids by mouth, too."

"Well that all seems fine. And the throat? Is the soreness improving?" he asked as he looked at Steve.

Steve nodded, "The soreness isn't so bad, but I can't seem to get rid of this dry cough."

"That's just a consequence of the smoke inhalation. A dry cough may persist for some time, but as long as your chest remains clear we don't have to worry about that. It'll settle down given time. Now, I'll just listen to your chest and then I'll check these dressings if you please, Nurse."

She lowered the sheet off Steve's chest and Dr Cranmer applied the stethoscope and listened to his chest intently. "Well now that's just fine and dandy too. Now, these dressings." Moira eased the dressing off Steve's chest wall. He hissed a little with an in-take of breath as it was peeled away.

Dr Cranmer studied the wound. "That looks nice and clean."

Moira opened a gauze pack and quickly covered the wound again. The whole process was repeated again with the two wounds on Steve's arms and lastly the wound on his face. Mike looked intently over the shoulder of Dr Cranmer to get a good look at the repair the plastic surgeon had carried out. He was amazed there were no stitches to be seen just a piece of thread at either end of the wound with a small blue bead at each end.

"Oh, that looks excellent," Dr Cranmer said and looked over his shoulder. "What do you think, Mike? Lovely neat job isn't it?"

"My oh my. How did he do that? I can't see any stitches."

"Trick of the plastic surgeon's trade. It's one continuous suture inserted just under the surface edges of the wound. It brings the wound together cleanly and with no visible stitch marks. It gives an excellent result. Hmm! Yes, that looks very good. It'll be almost invisible in a few weeks." Moira replaced the dressing and then Dr Cranmer turned his attention to Steve's leg looking intently at the sutures and the framework that supported the fracture repair. "Getting much pain from your leg, Steve?" He didn't lift his head as he spoke.

"Yes, sir, quite a bit. Well, pretty bad really if I'm honest. The shot the nurse gave me has helped."

Moira spoke. "The pain broke through Steve's sleep a short while ago. It was quite strong... very strong actually. He's on 10 mg of morphine four hourly."

"Hmm! In that case I think I'll write him up for an extra 5 mg. Are you happy with that, Nurse?"

Moira nodded. "Yes, Doctor. I think Steve will be more comfortable on that."

"The thing is, Steve, we need to keep your pain under control, but if we increase the dose too high you'll be away with the fairies." He laughed at his own joke as he looked first at Steve then at Mike. Both smiled in return.

"At the moment I'll take the fairies any day," Steve quipped.

Dr Cranmer turned back to Moira. "Has Dr Truman been in again yet?"

"Not yet, Doctor, I believe he's tied up in theatre with a nasty road accident case. He sent word though that he'll look in on Steve when he's finished in theatre."

"Very well. Steve, Nurse Lowe here will remove the heart monitoring equipment from your chest and then we'll get you moved out of the ICU and off to a room downstairs. Have we got a room allocated for him, Nurse?"

"Yes, sir. He'll be going to Room 208. It's a nice sunny room with a view out over the gardens."

"There, you heard what Nurse said! You couldn't get a better room if you were staying in the honeymoon suite at the Fairmont Hotel."

"Dr Cranmer, if I was in the honeymoon suite at the Fairmont I doubt I'd be bothered with the view!" And all of them laughed quietly at this comment from Steve.

"Touché young man! I'll look in again downstairs this evening when you've had time to settle in. Oh, and remember, laughter may be the best medicine but not too much you hear. You don't want to burst those stitches and undo that fine needlework of Dr Carr's, now do you? Bye for now." And with that he swept out of the cubicle followed closely by Moira.

Mike rubbed his hands together. "We just need Dr Truman to give you a good report now and I think we can all heave a sigh of relief. But, before you see him, I need to talk to you, Buddy Boy." Mike knew he had to get Steve to understand the importance of staying positive, complying with Dr Truman's instructions and, above all, behaving himself. This was going to take some doing.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"So what do you want to talk to me about then?" Steve yawned carefully as he looked at Mike. The stitches in his face were pulling and he was wary of damaging them. He was also feeling very sleepy again and his head was beginning to spin wildly.

Mike knew the morphine was kicking in again and would soon take over. He knew Steve needed to get some rest but he had no idea how soon it would be before Dr Truman came to see Steve and he really needed to give him a 'heads up' before that happened. "Well, it's about Dr Truman. You haven't met him yet... but... well... he's not the kind of guy who'll stand any messing around. He's kind of… how shall I put it... kind of... opinionated, and he strikes me as the kind of guy who wants things done his way or it's the highway. He's very much a no-nonsense guy and he's got this pre-conceived idea into his head that young patients have no patience, that they won't comply with the recovery programme that he lays down and that they rarely follow the advice of their physical therapists."

"Sounds a little like you, Mike," he joked.

Mike shot a stern look at Steve. "If I was anything like that, Buddy Boy, you wouldn't have lasted a week as my partner."

"Alright, so you want me to toe the line and do as I'm told. Is that it? I can do that."

"Huh! If I believed you could do that I wouldn't be talking to you right now. The day that happens will be the first." Mike smirked. "I just want you to understand that you have an awfully long road ahead of you to get you back to full fitness. Now Dr Cranmer has assured me that Dr Truman is the best man to help get you there. You want your life and career in the department back, don't you? Well, Dr Truman and his team of physical therapists are the ones who'll get you there, but you have to co-operate, and you have to temper that streak of stubbornness and impatience that I know you have in bucket-loads, if you want to keep them on-side. Now do you think you can do that? I'm being serious here, Steve...no joking."

"Mike, I'm hurt that you've formed that opinion of me and I really don't know where you've got it from." Steve deliberately put a hurt look on his face, then seeing Mike's frosty glare, he realised this wasn't the time for humour and Mike really did mean what he was saying. "Seriously, when I look at my leg I do have some idea of how challenging my recovery is going to be and, if this Dr Truman is as bad as you say he is, I promise I'll do my best not to make waves with him. You're beginning to freak me out about this guy you know, but you know me, Mike, and I don't usually make the best patient. I can't promise it'll happen, but you have my word I'll do my very best to be a model patient. Will that do for you?" he yawned sleepily.

Mike considered Steve thoughtfully. The boy sounded sincere, but he just didn't trust him to pull it off. "I suppose that's the best I can expect from you, so I suppose it'll have to do."

Just then, Moira returned to the cubicle. She had fresh ice-packs in her hand and in the other she had another feeding beaker but this time the liquid inside was a pale amber colour. "Gentlemen, there's going to be a bit of a delay moving Steve to his room on the second floor. In fact, it may not even be till tomorrow morning now, so I suggest we let Steve get some much-needed shut-eye for the next few hours before his next meds are due. Steve, I promised Mike I'd bring you some tea earlier but with all that's been going on it's been a bit delayed. There's also a couple of plain cookies that I want you to try and eat. Try dunking them if it still hurts to swallow. You can try more of a light meal later. I'll leave Mike here to help you with this, then I want him to go and let you rest quietly before you leave my care and move on to someone else's tender mercies. Do we have a deal?"

Mike and Steve answered in unison "We have a deal." The tea was half drunk and only one of the cookies eaten when Mike put the half empty beaker down. "Had enough?"

"Yeah, sorry but I'm done."

"I think Moira will want you to drink more than that."

"Mike, if I drink too much I'm going to want to pee and I don't see any male nurses around here, do you?"

"Ah, so that's it. Steve, I think needing to pee is the least of your worries." Mike lifted the edge of the sheet at the side of the bed to show Steve the catheter tube disappearing over the side. Steve's eyes followed it down and Mike pointed with his finger to the catheter bag hanging from a hook on the side of the bed.

"Oh man!" Steve looked horrified as he looked back up at Mike's grinning face. Mike nodded, and his face was suffused with laughter. That had woken Steve up a bit.

"That's not all." Mike grinned broadly and pointed to the sheet and nodded his head downwards.

Steve lifted the rest of the sheet slightly off his chest and cast his eyes down. "Oh man! Mike, I'm butt-naked under this sheet!" His voice squeaked.

"Have you only just realised? Steve you've been in the ICU before. What did you expect to have on... your overcoat?"

"I guess I've been so out of it I never noticed, but... I'm not even in a hospital gown this time! Oh man. This is so embarrassing."

"Look they're hopefully moving you out and downstairs to a room later this evening. I'm sure someone will come along soon and get you into a hospital gown. Perhaps when Moira has taken the heart monitor patches off your chest she'll get a gown for you and get you into it."

"Moira! No, Mike! No! You can't let her do it! Tell her I want a male nurse or an orderly. Please Mike... or...or... you do it! Please!" His voice rose, and his pleading was made worse by Mike's stupid grin spread all over his face.

"Steve, I can't interfere with their nursing policy."

Steve fixed Mike with a glare to counter even Mike's renowned glare. "Damn you, you're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Alright, alright. I'll go and have a word with her." He couldn't resist teasing Steve but, as he could see him working himself into total panic, he decided enough was enough. The boy was still very weak. "Okay. Calm down now. I'll go and speak to her, I promise."

"You will? You promise?" He was so worked up he was coughing heavily again.

"I just said I would, didn't I? Now you need to settle down and get some rest. I mean it now. Do as you're told."

Steve gave Mike one more hard look, then he steadied his breathing and tried to relax. Tiredness was washing over him and Mike could see he was visibly deflating. His voice was dropping so low Mike was almost straining to hear him. "You're right. I am feeling whacked. I guess such a lot has happened since early morning it's tired me out. To be honest, I rather hope they don't move me until tomorrow. I don't think I can face being trundled all the way down to the second floor and moved into a new room. I already feel like I'm on a merry-go-round. I just want to sleep." He was beginning to drift off. "Do you think the night staff here will be as nice as Moira's been? She's a lovely lady, a born nurse."

"Yes, I think so too. Some people just fit their jobs like a glove. Like you and me eh?" Mike thought about the night nurse 'Flick'. Personally, he felt they couldn't move Steve quickly enough for him.

Steve was still looking for reassurance. "You met her, didn't you? The night nurse? Was she a comforting type like Moira or an absolute harridan?"

"The... er... night nurse, you mean? She said to call her Flick, short for Felicity."

"What's she like, this 'Flick'?"

Mike could see Steve's lids getting heavy and he smiled as he saw Steve stifle a yawn to prevent his mouth opening wide and stretching the painful sutures. "She's an exceptionally pretty young lass, knows her stuff too. If truth be told I hope they do move you before she comes on duty, otherwise I fear your roving eyes will have a feast."

"Mike, you don't need to worry. I have neither the energy, the inclination nor the ability to make a move on anyone at the moment." He yawned again. "I just want someone with kind hands, a soothing voice and preferably... someone who can... give a shot... without... hurting. That's... all... I ask... for." His eyes closed, his breathing steadied, and he slept.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Mike left the hospital after having a brief chat with Moira and explaining about Steve's stomach-churning embarrassment over the hospital gown.

"It's really bothering him that much, is it?" she smiled. "Don't worry, I've probably been a nurse longer than Steve has been out of diapers. Rest assured, there are ways of achieving these things without harming his dignity. I've no doubt he'll sleep for a few hours now. He's completely tuckered out from the events of the day. You just go home and get a decent meal inside you and leave the rest to me."

"Okay, if you say so. Do you think he'll be moved to a room this evening? It's getting quite late now."

"Well, it's still on the cards for tonight. If they do move him, I'll be sure to ring and let you know."

"Thanks, Moira. If he wakes, tell him I'll be back later." He turned to walk away and turned back again. "And don't stand any nonsense from him!" Moira smiled and, with a brief salute, Mike turned towards the elevator.

For the next hour or so Steve slept deeply. Moira checked on him frequently and was amused at the little snores he gave every so often.

Just before six o'clock, Dr Truman stepped out of the elevator and approached Moira at the nurses' station. "Good evening, Nurse. I'm here to see Inspector Keller." He swept past and on towards the entrance to the ICU ward.

"Oh, good evening, Dr Truman. Certainly. I'll just get his file for you." She picked up Steve's hospital notes from the desk and hurried after him into the ward.

"How is he progressing?"

"He's doing very well. He's been awake, alert and talking. He's not given too much concern on my part other than his pain management, but I'll feel happier when you've seen him of course. Cubicle 4, Doctor." She parted the curtain and handed Dr Truman the file.

"I spoke to Dr Cranmer about fifteen minutes ago. He reported he's happy with the general progress of the Inspector's other superficial wounds and the burns he sustained but, as you have just said, I believe there have been some concerns about pain relief." He gave Moira a questioning look and picked up Steve's chart from the end of the bed.

"Yes, Doctor. He was given morphine earlier this morning after the ventilator was disconnected, but I understand the dose was kept to 10mg because of the effect it could have on his breathing. However, the dose wore off earlier than I had anticipated, and he was in intense pain. He had another dose of 10mg but you were in theatre so I called Dr Cranmer and he assessed him, and he's increased the dose of the morphine and also written him up for Oral Tylenol as a top up when needed. He had the increased dose of morphine just over an hour ago and he's sleeping peacefully as you can see."

"Has he had any Tylenol?"

"No, not yet."

"That's fine. Right, I won't disturb him too much. I'll just have a look at the leg if you'll turn on the overhead light please." He closely examined Steve's leg and the frame, but Steve never stirred. "That all looks fine, Nurse. What about his mood? Any problems?"

"No Doctor, not really. He got a bit agitated with his partner, Lieutenant Stone, this afternoon, but that man is marvellous and knows just how to handle Steve... er... Inspector Keller, and he was able to calm him down without too much difficulty."

"Hmm! Probably the enormity of the situation is only just beginning to sink in. He's presumably seen the frame of course and appreciates it's serious, but with the naivety of the young, he won't have fully absorbed and considered the implications of what's ahead of him. Well, I won't disturb him. Let him sleep for now. Tomorrow will be soon enough for me to spell it out to him and put him in the picture. I'm making no changes to the meds but carry on with the periodic ice packs. I'll continue to liaise with Dr Cranmer. Good night, Nurse." And with that he briskly handed the notes back, turned and left the cubicle.

Another hour had passed peacefully when the phone rang on the desk.

"ICU. Nurse Lowe speaking." She listened. "Oh, that's very good to hear. About eight o'clock you say. Yes, we'll be ready. Thank you." She put the phone back on its rest.

She looked around the ICU and spied who she was looking for. "Kathy, could you help me please? Steve Keller is being transferred to a room downstairs in about an hour and I need to get him ready for the move. Could you help me when you have a moment, please?"

"Sure, Moira. Five minutes."

"Thanks." Moira went to the linen cupboard and extracted a hospital gown and a clean top sheet and then made her way back to Steve's cubicle. She held her breath as she entered preparing for battle with the young man in the bed if he was awake, but he was still sound asleep.

"Let's hope he stays that way for the next few minutes," she spoke under her breath.

Kathy entered the cubicle and Moira looked at her and put her index finger to her lips and whispered, "I anticipate trouble if he wakes so we need to do this as quietly and carefully as possible."

In well-practiced moves, Moira disconnected the IV from Steve's arm and lowered the top sheet to Steve's waist. They gently picked up each arm in turn and slid the gown up his arms to his neck and gently tucked it under his shoulders.

Suddenly Steve stirred, gave a light snort and spoke. "Not again tonight, Babs. I have to be up early."

Both nurses stilled their movements and looked at each other with huge grins on their faces. They waited a minute, but Steve didn't stir again. They pulled the gown down, so it lay over the top sheet. They then pulled the soiled top sheet from under the gown and straightened the gown over Steve's good leg leaving the thigh of his injured leg uncovered. The sheet was removed from the bed and replaced with a clean one which was tucked in at the base and pulled up the bed, again leaving the frame uncovered. Moira then re-connected the IV.

"Well that wasn't too bad, modesty protected, but I'd hate to be the one who has to remove his catheter!" Moira chuckled.

With a smile Kathy prepared to leave the cubicle with the soiled sheet. "Anything else you need?"

"No thanks, I can manage the rest."

Over the next half-hour Moira carried out all Steve's checks again, updated his charts, and replaced the saline bag and catheter bag with fresh ones. She then returned to the desk and rang Mike to update him of the move.

"I can't thank you enough for all the wonderful care you've given Steve, and myself, whilst he's been in the ICU. You've been very understanding and so kind. Er... Did you put him in a gown...?"

"Yes, Kathy and I did. The gown is on and he slept through it all blissfully unaware," she laughed gently as she spoke.

"Well that's a relief. Thank you again."

"Both of you are very welcome, Mike. It's what we do up here. I hope Steve progresses and copes well in the coming weeks. There's a long road ahead of him... ahead of both of you."

"Oh I think he will do and he knows, deep down, the hard work that's ahead. He's very strong and resilient... when he puts his mind to it." There was a pause. "He'll do well, I'm sure of it."

"I'm sure too. Goodbye, Mike. Best of luck to you both." She rang off.

The time was fast approaching for Steve's next meds so she decided to administer the shot a few minutes early before he woke up so he would be comfortable during the move. Again, he didn't wake. She then busied herself until the elevator doors opened and two male orderlies and a nurse's aide stepped out and approached the desk.

"Patient, Steven Keller, to be moved to Room 208, Nurse." The accompanying nurse's aide looked at her notes and spoke to Moira.

"He's all ready for you." Moira led them to the cubicle and pulled back the curtains. With practised ease, the IV was unhooked from the stand and hooked onto the back of the bed. A small portable oxygen cylinder lay on top of the covers and, with Steve's 'hospital bag' at the foot, the bed was pushed out of its space and quietly wheeled down the ward and into the elevator. As the doors closed and Steve went on his way still completely oblivious to what was going on around him, Moira whispered, "Good luck, young man. I think you're going to need it." All that remained for Moira to do was to return to the cubicle and make it ready for its next occupant before she went off duty. It had been a long day. Her part in the long treatment and recovery of Steven Keller was over... but someone else's was just about to begin.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Steve was stirring. Mike watched intently as he surfaced slowly back to reality from his sleep and his eyes opened, swept the unfamiliar room from the curtained window on one side to the door standing ajar into a small bathroom on the other, and then focused on Mike. "Hey, Mike. They moved me, huh, and I didn't feel a thing? Have you been here all the time?"

"No, I went back to the office for a while to update them and see to some paperwork, then Roy and I went for a meal before I came back here. You've slept the whole of the time, Buddy Boy. Moira was right. You were all tuckered out. She sent you on your way with her good wishes, and the guys back at the bullpen all send their best wishes for you to get well soon too. I got back here about half an hour ago."

"What time is it?"

"A little after 10.15."

"In the evening?"

"Sure, in the evening. You've not slept that long," he grinned and pressed the buzzer by the bed. "I was told to let them know when you woke up. I think they want to try and get you to eat and drink something."

"At this time of night? I don't think I could. I'm really not hungry."

"Well you've not eaten now for over forty-eight hours, so you need to try a little something."

"Is it that long since I came in? I had no idea. We never did get that pizza, did we? Oh, I suppose I could eat something. Maybe a piece of toast and some juice or milk."

Just then the door opened, and a tall, slim and attractive nurse aged around her late forties quietly entered. Her glance quickly took in the two men chatting amiably. "Ah! Sleeping Beauty awakes at last. I'm Nurse Holloway and I'm pleased to meet you Inspector Keller... though Mike here assures me you'll want to be called Steve?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly and looked at him for his approval.

"Hello, Nurse. Pleased to meet you too and yes, that's fine, please do."

"Thank you... and I'm June by the way. I don't care for a lot of formality especially when you're going to be with us for some time. I'm your night nurse by the way." She looked across at Mike and back to Steve. "Now, how do you feel? How's the pain?"

"At the moment? Well my face is pulling a little and giving me a headache, my arms and chest are making themselves felt in no uncertain terms, and my leg is throbbing like the devil, but otherwise it's all bearable... just... at the moment."

"Ah! I see you're a stoical one. Your next morphine isn't due for another forty-five minutes, but I can get you some Tylenol if you wish?"

"Please, that'd be good. Thanks."

"Now did Mike tell you I need to get you to eat something? What do you think you could manage?"

"Perhaps a slice of toast and some juice or cold milk if you have it."

"Very good. Toast and cold milk coming up. I'll be back shortly." She left the room with a thumbs up to Mike that wasn't lost on Steve.

Steve smiled. "You've obviously had a chat with her before I woke, haven't you?"

"Well, maybe I just briefly put her in the picture a bit, you know." Mike grinned.

"She seems nice. A bit like Moira... only maybe a little younger... and slimmer... taller... and not so grey. Okay, nothing like Moira except in temperament." He chuckled. "I'm not sorry to have left the ICU, but I am sorry to leave her care. She made me feel comfortable in more ways than one. Lovely lady." Steve looked around him. "Nice room and a private en-suite too! I am impressed. I've never had my own bathroom before in the General."

"They've certainly done you proud this time! There's a nice view down on to the gardens too... just like the Fairmont!" Mike chuckled. "I think the idea of the private bathroom is because they don't want you sharing a bathroom with other patients. Apparently it's routine on an orthopaedic ward with injuries like yours. With your leg as it is, they can't risk foreign bacteria getting into your wound. The presence of your own body's bacteria can't be helped and will be guarded against, but they don't want you in a bathroom where multiple bodies have been that could contaminate you. At least that's how it was explained to me anyway. Makes sense I suppose."

"I guess it does, though how I'm supposed to reach the bathroom from here is puzzling me?" he grinned.

"Okay hot shot! Nobody expects it just yet but, as you improve and they start to get you out of bed, well..."

Steve grimaced and shuddered at the thought. "Don't... please! Just the thought of movement at the moment, let alone getting out of bed, is enough to turn my stomach, and June's expecting me to eat something."

"Give it a few days and you'll soon change your mind. I know you, and you'll soon get fed up of being bed bound."

"True! But that doesn't mean I'm in any hurry to get out of bed either," he sighed as he looked dolefully down the length of the bed to his leg.

Before he could get any more dispirited the door opened and June reappeared with two slices of buttered toast on a plate and a glass of milk. There was also a small pot with two tablets in it. Mike sprang forward and used the ratchets on the back of the bed to raise the head of the bed so Steve would be more upright and more comfortable. He then pulled the table out from the foot of the bed, slid it along the floor towards Steve's chest area, then swung it back over the bed again.

"MIKE! BE CAREFUL! DON'T KNOCK MY LEG!" Steve shrieked with panic and his rasping screech suddenly turned to the annoying dry cough again.

"It's okay, Buddy Boy! Calm down! I already set the height so it would miss your leg whilst you were asleep. Besides, it has to miss the sling too. You have to have a little faith in me, Steve." Mike spoke reassuringly as Steve's cough subsided. June had to smile at the closeness of the pair of them. She could tell their partnership was a very close one and yet she could see fun and games ahead with these two as well.

"Mike's right. Just take things easy and stop panicking. Do you need any help or will you manage?" she asked.

Suitably chastised, Steve managed a grin. "I think I'll manage and, if I can't, I'll have Mom here to help me."

"Hey, that's nice I must say. What's with this 'Mom' talk?" But Mike was pleased that Steve had calmed down and felt well enough to be able to jest.

June laughed softly and swept from the room. "I'll leave you to it then."

As Steve slowly ate they talked desultorily about Roy and the guys in the bullpen, and then Steve asked after the Sanchez family and Mike was able to reassure him that they were doing as well as could be expected.

"Have they any idea of the cause of the fire yet?" he asked.

"Roy told me he'd spoken to the investigating fire officer. It was caused by the older daughter going downstairs in the night to make herself a hot drink. The burner on the gas cooker wouldn't light so she'd used a match as she'd seen her mother do. As the gas flared it startled her and she dropped the still lit match on to a tea towel on the counter top just below the curtains behind the cooker which caught light then, in her panic, the child knocked over a bottle of cooking oil directly onto the cooker. The result was catastrophic. Her parents had been in bed at the time when they heard her screams and ran downstairs to find the kitchen and hallway already well ablaze and their daughter trapped by the back door in the kitchen screaming for help. Thank God she wasn't burned to death. Mr Sanchez went through the flames and grabbed her and then got both his wife and daughter to safety outside, but had then gone back in to try and reach Rosa in her upstairs nursery. Apparently, she's always been a poor sleeper so her nursery was up on the third floor away from any household noise that could disturb her. Unfortunately, he was beaten back by the pain of his burns and the smoke and fumes, and collapsed on the stairs where you found him." As Mike recounted this, Steve slowly ate one round of the toast. He took a bite out of the second round but pushed the rest away and slowly sipped the milk till he finished the glass.

"A sad tale but it could've been a lot worse. Thank God we got them out." Steve lay back and considered all he'd suffered by his rescue attempt. "I'd do it again, Mike, if I had to. Regardless of all this," he pointed to his leg, "it was worth it."

"I know you would, Steve, and I couldn't be more proud of you." They sat in silence for a minute or two, then Mike stood up.

"Tomorrow is another day. You need your rest to prepare for it and so do I. I'll lower your bed a bit, so you can rest easier, then I'm going home to get some sleep." He removed the table to the foot of the bed again, left the small light on over the bed, but turned the main light off casting the room into dim shadows. "Good night ,Buddy Boy. June will be in soon with your other shot of pain meds. Try and get some sleep and try not to worry. It'll all work itself out. It always does." He squeezed Steve's hand. "See you in the morning."

"Night, Mike and thanks." As Mike opened the door and moved to leave, Steve lay back against the pillows and spoke again. "The gown, Mike... did you...?"

"No, Buddy Boy, I believe that was Moira and another lovely nurse." And with that he walked out of the door with Steve's voice calling after him.

"Oh man! Mike you promised...!" The door closed softly behind him as Mike thought he'd fielded that one well. He chuckled to himself as he walked down the corridor to the staircase. He needed the exercise. All this sitting around at Steve's bedside wasn't good for his old bones.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This is the chapter you've all been waiting for. The encounter between Steve and Dr Truman!

Chapter 11

After a bad night, the next day began for Steve at 7.30 am on a dark and dismal Thursday morning with a visit from a male orderly who introduced himself as Walt Baker. Walt was a middle-aged, jovial guy who felt that it was his mission in life to help his patients to 'have a nice day' whether they felt like it or not, and he was the kind who wouldn't take no for an answer.

Steve hadn't had a very good night. Having slept much of the previous two days liberally cushioned by the strong pain meds needed to keep his pain manageable, his brain was alert but troubled and hadn't been able to switch off after Mike left the night before. It wasn't pain keeping him awake, as the night nurse saw that his meds were regularly given, it was more the dark thoughts he was having of the mammoth task he knew lay ahead of him in the coming weeks and months. Weeks when he would have to call on his reserves of strength, not to mention the pain he knew was going to be inevitable, in order to get himself back to full fitness again. Would he ever reach full fitness again? Would he ever be well enough to return to his work as a homicide detective? Who knew? He certainly didn't, and it was that fear and uncertainty of the unknown that bugged him the most. He wanted to be normal again, to be fit and well, and he wanted it so desperately, but had he got the courage he knew would be necessary and expected of him to cope with whatever lay ahead? He knew it would mean digging deep into his reserves. Could he do that? Steve hardly dared countenance such thoughts, but eventually the effect of the drugs he had been given just before midnight sent him off into a troubled sleep.

When he awoke again just after 4 am the pain was building again so he rang for more pain relief. After June left the night-nadgers kicked in again and his whole situation seemed pretty desolate to him. He wished Mike was with him. He wished he hadn't gone home in his comfy car to his comfy bed in his comfy house on his comfy street with his comfy neighbours leaving Steve at the mercy of his very uncomfy thoughts. Then guilt overwhelmed him at the knowledge that Mike had sat with him for much of the preceding 48 hours. He was a loyal and true friend and he deserved his rest. He finally dropped off shortly after 5.30 am so he wasn't in the mood to be woken at the crack of dawn and chivvied into early morning ablutions by a guy who wouldn't have been out of place in a comedy troupe.

"Come on now, Stevie-boy, you'll feel a lot better and fresher when I've finished with you. A nice refreshing wash and brush-up and you'll feel like a new man."

"I kinda like the old man," Steve muttered under his breath and aloud asked, "Does it really have to be now? Couldn't you come back later? I'm really not in the mood to be messed about. And it's Steve not Stevie-boy."

"Sorry, but I have other patients besides you to see to... er... Steve and, when you get to know me better, you'll know I'll brook no arguments. Everything on my watch runs shipshape and Bristol Fashion."

"What on earth does that mean?" Steve asked petulantly then, as he looked at Walt's cheery disposition as he stood in front of a bowl of gently steaming water with wash cloth and soap in hand, he decided there was no point in entering a battle he stood no chance of winning and capitulated testily to whatever was to come.

Within half an hour of introduction, Steve had been bed-bathed, shaved and changed into a clean gown. He had to admit he felt a lot better for it, though he'd had to correct Walt three times about his name, but he also had to admit that Walt was a nice guy doing what could be classed as an awkward job really well. Far from feeling embarrassed at being strip washed, Steve felt remarkably relaxed in Walt's company. As he pulled a comb through his dampened hair he knew his earlier misgivings towards Walt were misguided and that he would get on well with the guy, though his weird sense of humour was another thing altogether.

"Right... next... breakfast! What would you like? How do you fancy a nicely coddled egg with Hollandaise sauce, some French finger toast and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice? Oh, wait a minute, I forgot it's the chef's day off. Darn it! How about a bowl of oatmeal or some cereal and some coffee, or... you do have a choice... I can do tea if you prefer?" he beamed at Steve.

Steve had no option but to laugh. "I'll take the cereal please and tea with a little milk but no sugar thanks, and in a mug please not one of those feeding beakers they gave me in the ICU."

"Would sir perhaps prefer a cup with a saucer?" Walt demonstrated holding a cup and saucer the posh way with his little finger held up straight.

Steve grinned. "A mug will do, thanks."

Walt left the room and Steve sighed. Annoying as Walt seemed at first sight, he guessed humour was needed if he was to get through this, and he felt sure he was going to get it in excess from Walt.

It was about 10.00 am when Dr Cranmer called in briefly to see him. "How's it going, Steve? You're looking a lot brighter today."

"I'm feeling brighter thanks. There's an orderly called Walt and he..."

"Say no more," he held up his hand and laughed, "we all know Walt. How's the pain?"

"Not so bad as long as I get the meds on time. I feel heavy-headed though. Like I'm struggling through a fog one minute and then floating the next."

"I think that's the morphine. We'll try reducing the dose a little. How many Tylenol have you taken?"

"I'm not sure... probably not many. I think maybe six or so over the last two days just as a top up when it's been really bad, but I think I've slept through most of the past two days so it's hard to say really."

"I'll speak to the nurse and add a note to your chart. Maybe take the Tylenol a little more often up to eight a day and try and eke out the dose of the morphine a little more. Your body's not used to morphine. I did warn you it could send you away with the fairies."

"Oh, I haven't seen any fairies... just Mike!" They both laughed.

"How do you feel about getting the catheter removed? You don't need it any longer and I'm sure you'll feel better without that hanging on the side of the bed."

"That's for sure. I'm just... er… a bit uncomfortable about... you know...er... the nurses... er... Oh hell! To be honest, I'm embarrassed at the nurses removing it!" There he'd said it.

Dr Cranmer chuckled. "No need for embarrassment, Steve. They do it all the while."

"Not to me they don't!" His voice rose a little.

"Okay, calm down. How about if I get my resident to remove it for you? Would that be acceptable?"

"As long as your resident isn't female, that's fine."

"Okay, you have a deal. I'll speak to John. It's not something he'd normally do but, under the circumstances, I'm sure he'll do it if I ask nicely. Now, how are the other wounds? I'll just take a look at them."

Dr Cranmer first checked Steve's lacerations then the minor burns on his lower legs which were drying up nicely and only required dry gauze dressings. He left shortly afterwards and one of the day duty nurses came in and put fresh dressings on.

Just before noon, Steve received a visit from Dr Truman. Having previously been warned by Mike that the doctor was the epitome of 'He who must be obeyed', Steve was somewhat nervous at meeting him for the first time, though he also knew that it wasn't in his nature to allow himself to be cowed under by anyone, attending doctor or not.

The great man swept into the room accompanied by two other men who he introduced as his Resident, Dr Sam Greenberg, and the man who was destined to be Steve's Physical Therapist, Ricardo "Rick" Garcia. Steve struggled to subdue a smile at their disparate appearances. While the great man was approximately 5 feet 7 inches and possibly 150 lbs ringing wet, the other two men towered above him. Sam was tall and well-made but Rick Garcia, Steve's PT, was possibly 6 feet 3 inches tall and at least 200 lbs. He was dressed in black pants and a white T-shirt that just about fitted where it touched and emphasised the fact that he was no stranger to working out in the gym. Truth be told it was the sight of his future PT and his well-muscled physique that bothered him more than any thoughts of what Dr Truman could do or say to him. This was not a man to be trifled with. If Rick said "jump" he would have to ask, "how high?" and then he realised the absurdity of that thought as he realised he didn't even have the ability to get out of bed and stand at the moment let alone jump.

Dr Truman began as he meant to go on... quite curtly. "Now, Inspector. I'm not going to beat about the bush. I believe in being honest and straight to the point. You, young man, have a long road ahead of you and you will find that road a lot easier to travel if you accept right from the start that we, the surgical and nursing teams, together with the physical therapy team, have the upper and controlling hand. We are the ones with the knowledge and capability to help you and, as long as you grasp that fundamental fact right from the word 'Go' and do precisely as you are told, you should do well. Above all, young man, you will need the two 'P's'... Patience and Perseverance. Without either of those traits I can tell you now that you'll be going nowhere fast. Am I understood?"

Steve was somewhat stunned by the man's brusqueness but, remembering Mike's warning, he decided to hold his counsel. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good. Now moving on... Fortunately, aside from your fractures and, of course, your dislocated knee, your other injuries were reasonably light. Now, whilst we need to allow that knee a few more days rest for the swelling to subside, at the same time we need to prevent it from totally seizing up, so your PT will begin some massage and light exercise on the knee. He will also begin basic exercises to keep the rest of your body nicely toned and to prevent the muscles in the rest of your body from seizing up too. In a few days, exercises on your left leg will begin in earnest. We have to guard against deep vein thrombosis developing in the leg as it will be immobile for a long period, so he'll begin with basic massage and stretches to get you moving and then he will give you a programme of knee flexions and extensions that you will be expected to carry out on a regular basis every single day. I will leave that programme up to Rick as I have every confidence in his ability to devise the necessary programme. He knows what I want you to do, how I want you to do it, and how often I want you to do it. I must also point out that, whilst regular and controlled exercise is vital, excessive exercise of a non-programmed nature will most likely be detrimental to your recovery. In other words, do only as you are told, young man! You will have X rays of the leg, on occasions that I request, so that I may determine the progress of healing, and I may need to make occasional adjustments to the frame depending on those X rays and what they show. As the new bone tissue hardens and the limb strengthens you will be encouraged to weight-bear, but to no more than 50% of your weight until I, myself, say otherwise. The nursing team will carry out care and cleaning of the pin sites, and they will soon instruct you on how to carry out that care for yourself and what to look out for in terms of the possibility of infection or loosening of the pins so that, by the time you are discharged, you will be fully cognisant of all that is required of you. Is all that clear? Do you have any questions, Inspector?"

Mike had been right to warn him. Dr Truman was very direct and over-bearing and Steve was shocked at his 'no-nonsense attitude' as Mike had called it, and he felt very apprehensive and slightly nauseous at the thought of the impending exercises on his acutely painful leg. Although Steve felt mind-blasted by all he'd been told, still heeding Mike he held himself in check. "Yes, I think that's clear. I do have a few basic questions that I'm sure Rick will be able to answer, however, I do feel I need some idea of how long this recovery may take? I'm aware it's going to be a long job and it's not going to happen overnight, but am I looking at possibly two or three months or is it likely to be longer?"

"Oh, heavens above! Spare me the impatience of the young! How long is a piece of string, Inspector? You tell me! It will all depend on how well you comply with the instructions you are given and with your own body's ability to heal. At a rough guess I'm thinking a minimum of four or five months to removal of the frame and possibly six months to walking totally unaided. We're aiming for as near complete recovery as possible but realistically, and if all goes well, we can hopefully get you back to maybe ninety-five per cent of your previous fitness and mobility levels, but this could take as much as a year. Each individual is different. I can't give you any hard and fast guarantees for your recovery at this stage. That's where the two 'P's come in. Can you remember what those are? You've probably forgotten already! I'll remind you...Patience and Perseverance, young man... with a capital P. Have you got that? Now, are there any other questions before I head off?"

Dr Truman made a half-turn as if to leave but was soon halted as he noticed his patient visibly bristle. Steve had had enough and knew this was his one chance to make his feelings felt... and right from the start too! He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves and plunged in.

"Dr Truman, I've listened very attentively to all you've had to say and I fully appreciate that you and the rest of your team know best, and I have absolutely every intention of following your instructions, and theirs, to the letter. Aside from my family," he thought of Mike and Jeannie, "and my friends, there is nothing, but nothing, in this world that I value more than my career in the police department. I've worked exceptionally hard to get to the position where I am today, and I've not got there by flouting rules and not adhering to the orders of my superiors. You can take it from me that I will do nothing to jeopardise my full recovery and my ability to return to that position. Young I may be, but I'm not a green-horn, delinquent adolescent and, with the greatest respect, I object to being treated like one. Again, with the greatest respect to you, I'm a professional in my own field, and I assure you I will treat everyone involved in my recovery with the utmost regard and I will follow orders, but I would also ask that your team and, with respect, you also, treat me with that same level of regard and respect and not like a recalcitrant child. Now, have I made _myself_ clear?"

By the time Steve had finished speaking his breathing was a little laboured, and he was trembling but battling not to show it. He fixed Dr Truman with what he hoped was a perfect impersonation of the 'Stone' glare and didn't drop his countenance for a second. Dr Truman's resident and the physical therapist were transfixed on the spot not daring to look at Dr Truman for fear of the effect Steve's words would have had on him and what reaction he was going to give. He was not used to being spoken to like that and they fearfully awaited his response.

Dr Truman drew himself up to his full 5 feet 7 inches, puffed out his chest and glared back unblinkingly at Steve. "Young man, you must be aware that no-one... but no-one... has spoken to me like that for many years and I certainly do not appreciate your bombastic response." There was a pause as the two men stared each other out, neither wanting to give an inch. Steve held his ground and didn't flinch. Years of interrogating suspects had taught him the value of standing fast and striking home. Dr Truman was the first to cave. "However... having said that... I think you and I understand each other now better than when we started. However respect, Inspector, has to be earned!"

"I agree, and I've learnt over many years that respect is a two-way street. It's not handed to you on a plate and I don't expect it to be. I expect to earn it, and I'll earn your respect, Dr Truman, if it's the last thing I do. Now, what about you?"

For once in his life the great man knew he had met his match, and he had to admit to himself that he admired the young man's audacity. "Hmm! Your partner warned me about you when you first came in. Perhaps I should've heeded his words more carefully. If you put as much energy into your recovery as you just did into lambasting me... then I think you'll do well and... I think you and I will get on." He stared at Steve a little longer then gave a half-smile. "Yes, damn it, I think you'll do okay... Steve." And with that, Dr Truman reached forward, shook Steve's hand and left the room with his stunned resident following him hot on his heels.

Steve shuddered with the strain of getting his emotions under control. Slowly he steadied his breathing, flexed his hands which had balled into fists, and willed himself to relax. He looked up. "I think I need a drink!" he said to Rick who still stood stupefied and silent at the foot of the bed.

"Er… tea or coffee? Anything stronger doesn't mix with morphine! It might cause you to lose control and I'd hate to see that." Rick spoke facetiously and then they both laughed a little self-consciously. "Wow! That was some performance."

"Sorry, I'm not normally like that. Perhaps I shouldn't have reacted quite so strongly, but it needed to be said. Dr Truman doesn't like to be spoken to in that manner, but neither do I. No-one speaks to me like that and gets away with it... not since I left high school anyway."

"I agree. He's a brilliant man but even brilliant men need taking down a peg or two once in a while. You were amazing, and did you notice he called you Steve? He never calls any patient by their first name." He smiled. "If it helps, I second what Dr Truman said. You and I are going to get on, Steve, and you're going to do okay. I feel it in my water."

"I certainly hope so. Picking a battle with Dr Truman is one thing. Him I could beat. Now you..." he smirked at the sheer size of Rick... "I'm not so sure I'd even want to try."

"Oh, I don't know. I think I'm going to have my work cut out with you. It's not going to be all sweetness and light between us especially when the going gets tough and, believe me, it will do!"

And with that, he too left the room laughing as Steve's voice followed him.

"Tea please... milk no sugar... and a couple of cookies if you can find some please. I need to conserve my strength!"

Yes, thought Rick, this one would do okay.

That day started a new chapter in Steve's life. It was a part of his life that he would always look back on with mixed feelings of fearful expectation at the start and high achievement towards the end. His days were filled with so much activity and so much hard work from morning till night, to say nothing of the relentless pain that sometimes overtook him, that he often wasn't sure whether he could take it or not, but it was testament to the strength of this man that he was prepared to take on board and cope with everything that was thrown at him. At times he felt he was winning and at times he felt he would go under, but through it all was the abiding faith he had in himself that he would triumph in the end.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mike approached the hospital car park and swung the LTD into a convenient parking space. It was almost 2.00 pm and he wasn't happy. He'd fully intended to visit Steve earlier in the day, but he'd gone into the office early to catch up on some work and then got caught up with Roy Devitt and Captain Rudy Olsen and the weekly rotas. They were going to be a man short and knew it would be some considerable time before Steve would be back at work. Rudy wanted to temporarily bring in another officer to the homicide squad with a view to a possible permanent placement, and had decided on Sergeant Paul Kingdom who was currently working in robbery. He felt he had potential and would suit the homicide squad, but Roy and Mike weren't so sure he was the right man for the job. Rudy used his rank to over-rule them and, after much discussion, the decision was made. Roy would oversee homicide in Mike's absence whenever he was at the hospital over the next few days, Lee Lessing was designated to supervise Paul, and Bill Tanner would partner Mike for the duration.

Mike returned to his office, but he was far from satisfied that the right decisions had been made. He hated splitting up a good partnership like Bill and Lee had, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to break in Paul as a temporary partner for himself. He was head of homicide. It was his squad and he'd be damned if he'd let Rudy Olsen organise it for him. He leant back in his chair with his foot up on the open drawer of his desk and gave it some more thought. He felt it was best for Paul to float for the time being in the squad and just help out the others where and when he could, and he would ask both Bill and Lee to give Paul whatever time they could spare to take him out with them occasionally and teach him the ropes of homicide which were subtly different to robbery. However, Mike still wanted Bill and Lee to partner each other most of the time, and that meant he himself would have to do his best to take Paul under his wing as and when he could but, with a valuable man like Steve down, it would put a strain on all of them, particularly himself. It was a risk to take on a newbie like Paul and it might make matters worse, but with everyone already overworked and the squad now understaffed, beggars couldn't be choosers.

As he walked the corridors to Steve's room, he was still wondering if they had made the right decision about Paul, but decided to heed his mother's words to 'never judge a book by its cover'. On the way in he'd stopped off at Mama's for a dish of tuna and pasta salad for Steve with a slice of apple pie to finish off. He doubted Steve would be too enamoured with the hospital menu. In all the times he had been in hospital over the time he'd been Mike's partner, he'd never regarded the meals at the General or the Franklin as even remotely edible and the kid needed his strength. He breezed into Steve's room and, despite his worries about the squad, he put a cheery smile on his face. He saw the large oxygen cylinder still stood at the side of the bed though the nasal cannula had been removed from Steve's face.

"Well, well, well look at you all clean shaven and spruced up. You're looking much better, Buddy Boy. I've brought you some lunch in. Thought you might need something more than what the menu offers here." He went round to the other side of the bed to reach the bed table and he slid it into position over the bed. "I went to Mama's. Tuna and pasta salad and some apple pie to finish off. How's that sound? There's also a couple of today's newspapers and a crossword puzzle book. I put a thesaurus in, too... you know... just in case you get stuck." He grinned that wide Stone grin that was almost as annoying as the Stone glare and unpacked the bag.

"Thanks, it sounds good." Steve looked very downhearted and didn't rise to the jibe. It had been a while since Rick had left him and, left on his own again, his thoughts had returned to his tussle with Dr Truman and how infuriating the man had been.

"Hey, it's gone!" Mike pointed to where the catheter bag had been hanging the day before.

"Before you wisecrack about it... yes, it's gone and no, she didn't."

"What do you mean no, she didn't? Who didn't?" he retorted with a hurt smile. "And what do you mean don't wisecrack? Me... wisecrack? When have I ever wisecracked?"

"All the time. You can't resist it. The bag's gone... end of story."

Mike opened his mouth to say more but Steve cut him off. "Just leave it... and if you know what's good for you don't push it!"

"Okay, if you don't want to tell me who took it down you don't have to. I can always ask the nurse as I leave."

"Fine, you do that."

Mike didn't need Steve acting irritable after the morning he'd just had.

"Okay, hot shot, don't bite my head off! What's got you all riled up?" Mike put the containers he'd brought on the table.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Oh no, you don't get to tell me you're fine when you're clearly as mad as a fox in a hen house! Has someone upset you?"

Steve took a deep breath. "Dr Truman was in earlier. We... er... didn't exactly hit it off."

"Oh no... I was afraid of that. I did try to warn you about him. He's about as spiky as a porcupine. He got your feathers all fluffed up, didn't he?"

"Will you stop with the metaphors and talk plain English for a change! He was all you said he would be... and more. He detailed everything he expected for my treatment and recovery, but ... well... he didn't exactly voice it in very respectful tones and I told him so."

"Told him what exactly?" Mike's big blue eyes opened wide.

"That I wasn't some bit of a kid and I didn't expect to be treated like one. I'll follow his programme and comply with all the instructions and rules that go with it, but I won't be treated like some... some delinquent adolescent."

"You said that?"

"Well... not exactly in those words... but that was my meaning."

"And...?"

"And what?"

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean. If you went off half-cocked like that there must have been some reaction?"

"Well, we kind of talked and... after a while... he was okay. We reached an agreement... an understanding... you might say."

"An understanding! What kind of understanding? Hell's bells, Steve, talking to you is like pulling teeth! What happened next?" Mike was getting more and more stressed.

"Next? Well, we shook hands, he called me Steve, and he left." Steve glared at Mike.

"You shook hands and he called..." Mike was almost speechless. He grabbed the back of the chair and sat down as Steve smirked at him.

"I told you we reached an understanding. I understand him and... he understands me. Now where's that food? I'm starving. I thought you weren't coming in. Lunch today was liver and onions with turnip mash. I thought I was going to have to starve." He reached for the containers and started to take the lids off and looked at the food hungrily. "Did you bring me a fork?"

"Did I bring you a fork? Of course, I brought you a fork. Did you think I'd expect you to eat with your fingers like a... a... delinquent teenager?"

"Adolescent... delinquent adolescent." Steve kept a straight face.

"You really took Dr Truman to task? You took him on and bested him? I'd love to have been a fly on the wall for that! He's a pompous... " he muttered under his breath.

"I'm afraid I did. It wasn't a pretty sight but there was no blood spilt and now we'll both know where we stand in future."

"I warned you not to have a go at him, Steve. You need him on your side. I knew I should've been here to keep you in line."

"I didn't need keeping in line! Look, if he'd spoken to you the way he spoke to me you'd have had a go at him too. Mike, I can look after myself. I don't need you to babysit me. Now can we please drop the subject." And with that he began to eat and Mike knew he'd get no more out of him.

With food inside him, Steve began to feel a lot better. The two men laughed and chatted together and enjoyed each other's company whilst Steve devoured the food. It was the first proper solid meal he'd eaten in three days. He thought he'd clear the lot but gave up after eating most of the first course.

"Enough already! That was great, but I can't manage any more at the moment. Leave the pie there. I'll have it later. Thanks, Mike."

They went quiet for a moment. It felt like there was an elephant in the room. Steve knew he'd have to ask.

"Did you call Jeannie and tell her what happened?"

"Yes, I called her last night. You know Jeannie! Typically, she was angry that I hadn't telephoned sooner, and she was all for catching the next plane back, but she's in the middle of a semester and she can't just down tools and come rushing back for us unless it's an emergency, so I managed to convince her... eventually... that you're okay." Steve's eyebrows raised. "Well, alright, you're not okay, but you're not at death's door either. She's agreed to stay till the fall break at the end of next week and then she'll fly back for the long weekend and she can do her 'ministering angel' act to her heart's content. She sent you her love."

Steve laughed, "Oh, she'll revel in that. It'll be good to see her." Steve thought of the beautiful blue-eyed girl with fondness. She was her father's daughter and he knew she would mother him... more like smother him... but he was looking forward to seeing her.

"Yes, Buddy Boy, it will. If only to save me having to rush around after you," he said playfully.

"You said she's flying back. Isn't she taking the bus this time?" Steve asked.

"Well, ordinarily she would, but she's anxious to see you and, as you know, it's a twelve hour bus ride and she can fly here in two hours, so I sprung for the return air ticket. She only has a four day break and that's not long to spend with us, and she's worried sick about you and... well you know Jeannie almost as well as I do," Mike smiled with affection.

"You mean she wheedled the air-fare out of you, so she could spend more time mothering me?" Steve chuckled as he thought of how Jeannie was an expert at twisting her dad round her little finger whenever she wanted something as important to her as this.

"Well, as I said, she can do some of the running around for a change and I can rest my weary bones. Besides, it's not for another week or so and by then you'll need something to buck you up a bit and put a spring in your step. Oh, sorry, that was a daft thing to say when you can't even get out of bed at the moment," he chuckled. "Listen I have to go. I'm having to do some work paired up with Bill and I need to get back to Bryant Street. I'll call in after work this evening, but it may be late."

"Why don't you have the evening off tonight and rest those weary bones?" At the look on Mike's face he smiled. "Seriously, Mike, have a break. Put your feet up. If I remember right I think there's a documentary on tonight about Muhammed Ali. You should watch it and relax." He noticed Mike's sceptical look and tried to reassure him. "Mike, I'll be fine... really."

"Well... if you're sure? I'll pop in tomorrow. Anything you need?"

"Yes, would you mind asking Bill if he'd call in to see me please. Tonight if he can manage it. There's something I need to speak to him about."

"Bill? Oh, so you want a visit from Bill but not from me. That hurts, Steve." He put his hand over his heart and feigned emotion. "You want to speak to him about me, is that it? Put him in the picture as to what an old curmudgeon I am to work for?"

Steve chuckled. "I think he already knows that, Mike. No, it's just something I want him to do for me that's all."

"You're sure it's nothing I can help you with?"

"Mike, you're doing enough already. This is something I need Bill for. Okay?"

Mike nodded and put his fedora firmly on his head. "Okay. I'll tell him... and I'll see you sometime tomorrow." He patted Steve's good leg and left.

Steve lay back on his pillows thinking over the events of the day so far. He wondered how lying in bed all day doing nothing could be so tiring as he slowly picked up the newspaper and began to read the front page, but his eyes were finding it hard to focus and within a minute or two he'd drifted off to sleep, the paper dropping to his lap.

Nurse Liz Kendrick popped her head around the door a couple of times over the next two hours. She'd been told to instruct Steve in the correct cleaning and care of his pin sites so that he could carry out this task for himself during the months ahead. She'd already prepared a trolley with all she would need but she hadn't got the heart to wake him. When the night nurse, June Holloway, had done the morning handover she'd mentioned that he'd had a restless night. It seemed a shame to wake him. She noted how good-looking he was, his full lips and how his hair fell forward over his right eye. She felt she wanted to push it back for him. Behave yourself, Liz, she thought to herself. You're way too old for him and anyway he's probably already spoken for and you most certainly are. She thought of her long-time partner, Harry. She'd met him three years ago sometime after her acrimonious divorce from her husband, and Harry had finally proposed to her on Monday evening as they shared a romantic night out at a lovely restaurant overlooking the bay. It crossed her mind then that, probably at the exact time Harry was proposing and she was becoming the happiest woman in the world, this young police officer was inside a burning house risking his life to save the lives of others and being seriously injured in the process.

"Is he still asleep?" A voice behind her startled her and brought her out of her reverie. She looked over her shoulder.

"Oh, it's you, Rick. You made me jump. Yes, still fast asleep in the Land of Nod. I'm supposed to be teaching him how to take care of his pin sites, but I haven't got the heart to wake him."

"Me neither. I came by about a half hour ago. I'm supposed to be starting him on his basic exercises, but I hadn't got the heart to wake him either. Dr Truman's anxious to get him started but, for goodness sake, he only came out of the ICU last night. I can't help but feel that one more day of rest won't hurt."

"That's what I was thinking too. If you don't tell Dr Truman I won't. Pact?"

"Pact." And with one last look at Steve they closed the door and went about their other duties.

It was some time later that Steve awoke feeling hungry and thirsty and very much in need of the bathroom. Oh, lordy, lordy, he thought, if I ring the buzzer will I get an orderly or a nurse? He deliberated what to do then thought he would have to bite the bullet and pull himself together. He was going to be in this predicament for months and he certainly couldn't hold his bladder that long. He smirked at the thought and rang the buzzer lying on the bed at the side of him. The door opened and in walked Liz. Steve's heart sank.

"Hey, you're awake. Had a good sleep?"

"Yes, thanks. I can't seem to stop myself dropping off. I'm a little thirsty and my jug of water is almost empty. Any chance of a refill please? Mike left me a piece of apple pie from Mama's and I'll need to wash it down." He'd fudged the subject.

"From Mama's? Well it'll certainly be better than anything you can get from the kitchens here." She picked up his chart and turned to the page headed 'Liquids in. Liquids out'. The one column showed a pint of water being given to Steve at 10.10 am that morning but the other column was empty. Not only that but the jug was empty too.

"Steve, has no-one checked your urine output since the catheter was removed this morning?" she asked in all innocence.

Steve blushed to the roots of his hair. "Oh, I don't know... er... I didn't take any notice. I've been asleep all afternoon." He hedged the question as best he could but the look on Liz's face told him that she wasn't fooled by his answer.

"Steve, I think you'd notice if you'd used a bottle or not." Then she saw him swallow deeply, fidget with his hands at the edge of the sheet and break out into a cold sweat.

"You haven't asked for a bottle all day, have you? Why? Embarrassment? Is that it?"

Steve fidgeted some more and looked shame-faced.

"Steven Keller, this is ridiculous! We're nurses. Handing out bottles and bedpans is what we do. It's part of how we earn our living. Now quit being a numbskull, put your pride in your back pocket and be a man!"

"It's because I'm a man and... you're a... a... woman that I don't like to ask." he stammered.

"Oh, God give me strength! Steve, the human body is like a sponge. What goes in has to come out again. A sponge can only hold so much and if you don't squeeze it out once in a while you know what happens, don't you?" As Steve looked very sheepish she continued pushing the point. She'd got this man right where she wanted him. "That's right... it leaks out. All by itself. Is that what you want? A wet bed! Now that... that's embarrassing! You're a grown man and, supposedly, an intelligent one too. I shouldn't have to teach you the basic mechanics of the human body. Did you never do biology at school?"

Steve was bristling more and more but also becoming more and more shame-faced at her vocal stripping down and his face was becoming beetroot red.

"Okay...okay... okay! You've made your point. I'm an idiot. A total, first class idiot. I'm suitably chastised. Now please can I have a bottle before I burst, because then you really will have something to shout about, as well as wet bed sheets to change! And, Nurse Kendrick, if you get in a huff with me, then let me tell you, I can get in an even bigger one with you. I take on gangsters and murderers and bullies every day in my job and they don't get the better of me and, further more, if I can take on Dr Truman and thrash him I can certainly take on you." He was really worked up by now.

There was a deathly silence that almost bounced off the walls of the room. Then...

"Well, are you finished with your hissy fit, Inspector? Let me tell you I'd rather work the paediatric wards any day than male orthopaedics. The kids down there are far more mature than the kids up here!" She stared at Steve and he stared back. Neither wanted to be the first to back down, and then Steve's face creased and he started to laugh. Liz continued to glare at him then her eyes crinkled and she started to laugh too and, before long, Steve was holding onto his aching side terrified of pulling his stitches, and Liz was holding onto the bed frame for support. Tears were rolling down their respective cheeks.

"Liz," he begged, "stop it please! I give in! Just get me a bottle! Quick! I can't hold on much longer!" And with that Liz shot into Steve's bathroom and emerged with the necessary receptacle and handed it to him.

"Press the buzzer when you're finished," she gasped between giggles and then fled from the room.

Another battle fought today Steve thought. What's come over me? I'm never usually like this. This is so not me. What's happening to me? I was sharp with Walt, I took on Truman, I was tetchy with Mike and now I've had a go at Liz. It bothered Steve that he was picking fights with the very people he needed to keep most on his side and he didn't know why. He'd been hurt before and never reacted like this. Granted, this time he'd sustained a very nasty injury, undoubtedly the worst he'd ever suffered. It was certainly the most painful he'd ever suffered. He turned the puzzle over and over in his mind. What was so different this time? And then it hit him! That's it! It must be the morphine! Yes, the morphine. I'm high on morphine. It's making me dizzy and do crazy things. I have to come off it. Hang the pain...I'll manage on Tylenol. If I don't, at this rate, I'll have no friends left and I'll probably get kicked out of the hospital as a troublemaker. I'll tell Dr Cranmer I want to come off it. I HAVE to come off it. And, on that last thought and with his decision made, he pressed the buzzer for Liz.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I've got you all puzzled as to why he wants to see Bill. Well, you're about to find out and I doubt it's what you were expecting.

Chapter 13

He'd eaten the apple pie earlier and had later accepted a bowl of chicken soup and a bread roll when the evening meal trolley came trundling round. Granted it tasted more like bathwater, but common sense told him he couldn't expect to survive off food that was brought in to him and he needed to keep up his strength for what lay ahead. He'd read through the newspapers Mike had brought in and was lying with pen poised over the crossword, when the door was knocked lightly, and Bill poked his head round the door.

"Are you up for a visitor?" he asked tentatively then grinned broadly as he saw Steve smiling back at him.

"Hey, Bill, am I glad to see you. Come on in. Pull up a chair." Steve held out his hand to shake that of his work colleague and close friend. Bill took in the multiple bruises and scratches on Steve's face and neck, the dark circles around his obviously tired eyes and his sallow complexion, and he guessed his friend had been through hell in the last few days, so he tried to mask his feelings.

"It's good to see you looking so bright, Steve. Truth be told I was rather apprehensive about coming when Mike told me you'd asked to see me. Your injuries sounded pretty bad and we've all been so worried about you... even Norm! He even went out and got you this card and we've all signed it. I think our Norm has a soft spot for you!" he teased.

He handed Steve a large envelope with a card in it. He took it out and chuckled at the message on the front. There was a photo of a tombstone with R.I.P. chiselled across it and underneath it said "Get Well Soon. Tombstones Are Expensive." It was so typically Norm that Steve gave out a loud belly laugh. He then opened it to see the card liberally covered with Get Well messages from all the guys in the bull pen. Even Roy and Rudy had signed it. He was deeply touched.

"Aw that's great, Bill. It's much appreciated. Will you thank them all for me... especially Norm. I'm going to be in here a while so perhaps some of them would like to pop in some time and keep me company."

"Sure, I'll tell them. They'll no doubt be queuing up to come in so we'll probably need to schedule a rota." He then looked at the dressings on Steve's face and arms and then lowered his eyes to take in the frame on Steve's badly bruised and stitched left thigh. He cast a quick glance over it and Steve saw him visibly grimace and look away again and swallow deeply. All the time Steve watched his friend intently but didn't speak. Bill shuddered and pulled himself together and then looked at the frame again and then his eyes dropped to Steve's grossly swollen knee and the bruising slowing creeping down his left shin and disappearing under the dressings covering the burns just above his ankle. Steve's leg was partially covered by the over-bed table. Breathing unevenly Bill willed himself to move to the foot of the bed to get a better look. "Oh man, Steve. You really did it big this time didn't you? It looks pretty gross... er... I mean... does it hurt much? I mean... obviously it hurts, it would have to, but... how bad is it? I mean... Good Lord Steve. I don't know what I mean! I've heard of them but I've never actually seen one of these frames before. It looks... well..." Bill shuddered. He had a sick, pained expression on his face and was visibly trembling.

"Like something out of a medieval torture chamber?" Steve filled in for him and then grimaced.

"Well, yes, I suppose it does. Aw, Steve, I'm so sorry for you, man!"

"Listen, don't worry about it. It's pretty bad but I'm alive and, as Mike was so quick to point out, it could've been a lot worse." Bill flashed him a questioning look. "I could've landed on my head." Steve smiled to reassure Bill who was looking rather nauseous. "Hey, you're not going to throw up on me are you? The bathroom's through there if you are," Steve teased pointing to the door across the room.

Bill took a deep breath and moved back to sit on the chair at the side of the bed. "No, I'll be fine. Sorry, it just shook me a bit seeing you like that. What about the rest of you? Is that okay?" Bill asked as he pointed to the dressings on Steve's face and arms.

"Oh those. They're just a few cuts and bruises courtesy of a strategically placed viburnum bush that just happened to save my life. There's a nasty laceration to my cheek that's had to be stitched by a plastic surgeon, but I'm assured it's a great repair and it won't mar my devastatingly good looks... or my ability to pull the ladies." He flashed his eyes and laughed, and Bill laughed with him. He reached over and patted Bill's hand that was resting on the bed. "Anyway, enough of the doom and gloom. It's great to see you. Thanks for coming."

"Mike said you wanted me to do something for you. I'll do whatever I can you know that."

"Yes, I do know that, and I thank you for it. That's why I asked for you. I need you to buy me some things... clothes. Mike's okay, in fact he's been wonderful, as usual, but his ideas of fashion are a bit... shall I say... dated." The two men laughed and enjoyed the joke together.

"You can say that again," Bill chuckled.

"It's like this. I'm going to be in this frame for several months, and I can't weight-bear till they tell me, which is going to be some time. They won't discharge me till I can manage on crutches and negotiate stairs so I'm going to be having a lot of physical therapy. I'm going to need the kind of clothes that are comfortable but are easy to put on and off over the frame to allow me to dress myself. I'm also going to need the kind of clothes I can do my exercises in."

"Like sweat pants or track suit bottoms?"

"Exactly. They'll have to be quite baggy so they may need to be a couple of sizes too big, but that doesn't matter because I can get them taken in at the waist. They'll also need to be open at the side to allow access to the frame, but I can get that sorted and I'll come to that in a minute. My PT also wants me to have some shorts for exercises here at the hospital so he can monitor what's going on with my leg and knee whilst I exercise and, again, they have to be able to be put on and off easily. Are you taking all this in? I know it's a lot but don't worry I've made a list of what I need." He had to laugh at Bill's studious face.

"Thank goodness for that. I was getting a bit worried there," Bill laughed. "Is that it?"

"No, sorry, there's more to come. I can't spend my days in a hospital gown and my pyjamas aren't baggy enough to get on right now and, again, they need an open side. I'll need about four pairs a couple of sizes too big. Hopefully you can buy them as separates. I have loads of white T-shirts I can use as tops but the bottoms need to be bigger. If you can't get separates just get larger pairs."

"Okay, that makes sense."

"And lastly, underpants!" He laughed at the look on Bill's face. "I'm so sorry to do this to you but all of mine are cotton boxers... they don't stretch! I'm going to need some trunks that are made of a stretchy material and it's important that they fit... snug... when on. I'm going to be doing a lot of leg bends and stretches with my legs in the air. Do you get my meaning?"

Bill had been concentrating hard on what Steve was telling him then, suddenly, the penny visibly dropped as he took in Steve's meaning and Bill's face took on a wide-eyed look. Steve thought, poor Bill, he looks like he doesn't know what's hit him, and he burst out laughing.

"Oh, Bill. Your face is a picture. I wish I had a camera! You look like you wish you were anywhere but here."

Bill looked at Steve and the two of them dissolved into fits of giggles till the tears rolled down their cheeks. Bill leaned forward on the chair and held his sides.

"Why me, Steve? Why not Mike?" he gasped between spasms of laughter.

"Because if I'd asked Mike I'd have probably ended up with something like he or Norm would wear, and topped off with a woollen vest!" And off they went again. Bill was rolling from side to side so much he almost fell off his chair and Steve was holding onto his side with one hand and his cheek with the other.

"Stop it, Bill! I'll burst my stitches!" But still they continued to laugh till Nurse Kendrick put her head around the door.

"Hey, what's with all the noise? What's going on in here? You look like two naughty schoolboys caught in the act. Behave yourselves. Continue laughing like that Steve and you'll not only burst your stitches you'll probably get your knickers in a twist too." Which, of course was the worst thing she could've said if she wanted to calm these two giggling idiots down.

"I'm not wearing any!" Steve squeaked quietly to Bill and their loud guffaws could almost be heard back at Bryant Street.

"Men! Honestly! Like I said earlier, Steve, I'd rather work on the paediatric ward than up here. At least the kids down there have an excuse for acting like naughty little kids, and even then they're certainly more mature than you pair." And with that she closed the door and left them to their schoolboy giggling. As she walked away from Steve's room she thought laughter really is the best medicine and this evening has really done Steve good. It's worth more than a syringe full of morphine any day.

Eventually they calmed themselves down and started to breathe more steadily. Occasionally they would look at each other and a smile or a titter would escape but after several minutes both wiped their eyes and sobered themselves up.

"Oh, man, you don't know how much I needed that," Steve smiled deeply at Bill.

Bill touched his hand then realised they were in danger of becoming schmaltzy. He cleared his throat. "So, having bought all this stuff on your list, how do you propose to get them altered? You don't strike me as the kind of guy to be handy with a needle and thread," he joked.

"Ha Ha! I'm coming to that next. Do you know 'Moretti's', the tailor I use for my fancy jackets that Mike's always making fun of? You picked me up from there once when Mike called me back into the office urgently on my day off. Remember?"

"Sure, I do, on... er... O'Farrell Street, isn't he?"

"That's the one. Well if you can get those items on the list for me and take them to him, or give him a call and ask him to come and see me here, I can explain to Mario what I need doing and he can alter them for me. I'm a good customer of his and, under the circumstances, I think he'll do a rush job for me. If you don't mind paying for what you buy and then tell me how much I owe you, I'll ask Mike to bring my cheque book in and I'll reimburse you. Is that OK? You're sure you don't mind?"

"Hell no, Steve, of course I don't mind. Anything to help." Steve gave him the list he'd prepared and watched as Bill quickly scanned it.

"The only thing is, I need some of the stuff like the underwear and pyjamas sooner rather than later. Will you be able to manage that?"

"Steve, you're in luck. It's my day off tomorrow and the wife wanted me to take her to look at new carpet." He cast his eyes upwards. "I can postpone that till my next day off. She'll understand. Consider it done."

"Thanks, Bill."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Norm got you these and asked me to bring them in," and he handed Steve a paper bag. When he looked inside there were three lemon sugar doughnuts and a large bag of sunflower seeds.

"That's great, Bill. Thanks a lot. I'd better watch where I drop the shells if I don't want to incur Nurse Kendrick's wrath again."

The two men chatted a while longer then Bill got up to leave.

"Listen, before you go... keep an eye on Mike for me will you? He's worried about me... again... and he's running around after me... again... and the old guy's not getting any younger you know. I think he's worrying about something back at the office that he's not telling me about as well. I know me being off is leaving you all short-staffed and I guess he's taking too much on himself. Do you know something he's not telling me?"

Bill thought deeply before he spoke. If Mike hadn't told Steve about Paul Kingdom being brought into the squad then it wasn't his place to tell him. Steve was on very shaky ground at the moment. Would he accept that Paul was just a temporary replacement or would he get himself all worked up and think he was being written off already? He didn't want to speak out of turn and incur Mike's wrath. "Everything's fine, Steve. Stop worrying. Yes, Mike's under extra stress at the moment, but we're all pulling our weight and you know how we all feel about him. We'll keep an eye on him for you, never fear. He's just worried about you, but now you're out of ICU and making progress he can ease up a bit more. You get yourself well again and back where you belong with us, that's all any of us wish for."

There was a long sigh from the young man lying immobile on the hospital bed. "I'll do my best, but it's going to be a very long haul, Bill."

"I know, but you'll get there. Take care and look after yourself. I'll see you soon." He waved the list at Steve, "And don't worry about these things. I'll drop them by tomorrow if I can, and I'll call Mario Moretti for you." He moved towards the door and with a final salute to Steve he left.

Steve felt more reassured by Bill's words though his intuition told him something was still being kept from him. At least Bill was going to get the clothes for him, and he felt he was finally getting a bit of control back in his life. He couldn't shop for himself, but with the items Bill was going to get him, he'd be able to get out of the hospital gown and feel more like a human being again, albeit one with a leg supported by something that looked like it had been made from a Meccano set. He still needed to speak with Dr Cranmer about reducing his morphine, but that would have to wait till tomorrow. For now, his sides ached with laughter and so did his face, but it was a good pain. A happy pain.

He picked up his crossword again and looked at the next clue... 23 Down – 'the power to withstand hardship or stress'… E_ _ U _ A _ _ E. He chewed the end of his pen and then it came to him... 'Endurance'. He filled the spaces in. How appropriate, he thought, I'm going to have that tested for sure. I only hope I can 'endure' what's in store for me. As he laid his head back on the pillow he knew that with friends like Mike and Bill and, yes, even Norm, he could endure whatever life was to throw at him over the coming weeks. Let's face it, he had no choice. He picked up the paper bag and extracted the packet of sunflower seeds and pulled it gently open. They were good friends to have and he blessed the day he decided to join the San Francisco Police Department.

Best decision I ever made, he thought, as he chewed on the seeds.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The next day was busy from morning till night. It started with Walt again helping him with his morning ablutions. What wouldn't he give for a proper shower, but it was obvious that was out of the question at the moment. Breakfast this time was scrambled eggs on toast and tea. The eggs were rubbery, and the toast was soggy, but it was food and he knew he couldn't afford to turn it away. He hoped Mike would bring him something in later. He still had two of the doughnuts that Bill brought in and he decided to eke those out. Perhaps one mid-morning and one mid-afternoon, unless Mike brought him something better.

Soon after, Liz Kendrick pushed a trolley into the room. She lifted the back of his bed, so he was sitting upright and had a good view of what she was doing, and then proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes with him cleaning his pin sites and instructing him on the correct way to do it. He felt rather sick watching her do it so closely. Every time it had been done before since his operation Steve had always averted his eyes, but Liz insisted he had to watch and learn.

"This all takes time, Steve, and we have so many other patients to look after. The sooner you learn the technique and take over the care of the sites for yourself the better for all of us. You'll have to do this twice a day every day for as long as the frame is in place, so you'd better suck it up and take note. You'll be supplied with the necessary dressing packs and cleaning solution that you'll need while you're here, but you may have to buy your own when you get out of here, so pay attention to what you'll need."

Steve felt suitably chastised. He also started to feel very uncomfortable and nauseous as the cleaning began. It was the first time he'd had to watch closely and really study the pin sites in minute detail and, as Liz pressed around them with a moistened cotton swab like a Q-Tip, he felt the bile rise and knew his scrambled eggs were in danger of coming up to greet the light of day again.

"Liz, I think I'm going to throw up," he tried to warn her.

"Oh no you're not!" Liz exclaimed firmly. "Now, put your head back on the pillow, close your eyes and breathe slowly, deeply and evenly until the nausea passes. Count slowly to ten with a breath in and out between each count. Now, with me... one... deep breath in and breathe out, that's it... two... deep breath in and breathe out. Well done that's it... three..." And so it went on till Steve began to feel he would hold on to his scrambled eggs after all.

"I'm sorry, Liz. I'm not sure what came over me. It's all just a bit..."

"It's a bit daunting isn't it? I know, Steve. You've had your wobble and you've fought against it and won, so you know you can do it. Now, I'm going to clean these two sites here then I want you to clean the last three."

"Oh I don't know about that... not yet anyway." Steve's eyes pleaded with Liz.

"Well I do. You have to master it, and I know you can do it. Now watch me again." And so the cleaning went on with Steve watching intently trying to control his breathing with every wipe of the cotton swab. When it was his turn to take over he steadied his breathing and started the cleaning process till all three had been cleaned to Liz's satisfaction. When he was finished he felt quite proud of himself.

"Well done! See I told you you could do it. Now I just have to teach you how to wipe the frame clean every time too and then we're finished." Finally, it was done, and his purgatory was over. "There now that wasn't so bad was it? I'm proud of you for managing that, and even prouder of you for holding on to your breakfast." She laughed at the grimace on his face and then stood up to tidy the soiled items on the trolley before pushing it towards the door. "How about a nice cup of tea? I think you've earned it." She beamed at him.

"Not just at the moment thanks. Maybe in a little while. Those eggs are still knocking on the door to be let out," he laughed.

She lowered the back of his bed a little and he lay back and wiped the sweat from his brow with a tissue, then rested quietly till the door opened again and Dr Cranmer breezed in.

"Good morning, and how are you today, Steve. My, you're looking a little peaky I must say. Are you feeling unwell?" He reached out and put the back of his hand on Steve's forehead.

"I'm okay, Dr Cranmer. Nurse Kendrick has just spent half an hour teaching me care of the pin sites and the frame. It's just sent me a bit queasy that's all. It's passing off now."

"Ah yes, not a pleasant task I must admit, but a very necessary one. You'll soon get used to it." He picked up Steve's chart from the foot of the bed. "How's the pain? Is there much breakthrough on the morphine dose you're on now?"

"Well, the pain is pretty bad without the meds, but I've been having some weird experiences and I wonder if it's all due to the morphine. I was wondering if I could reduce the dose still further. I'm taking the Tylenol eight a day like you said and it seems to help."

"What kind of experiences, Steve?"

"Well, I'm kind of very light-headed and easily nauseous, and I'm sleepy a lot of the time too, but the worst thing is I'm tetchy and short tempered with people and for no obvious reason, but I just can't help it. I'm usually a pretty easy-going sort of guy but, if I keep getting these mood swings and biting their heads off, I'm not going to have any friends left. It's so unlike me that I feel it has to be the morphine, so I would just prefer to try reducing the dose till I can stop it altogether and take less powerful meds instead, if that's okay with you of course."

"Hmm! The nausea, sleepiness and light-headed feeling I'll possibly go along with, though it's also only to be expected, but don't you think the short temper and mood swings could just be due to the pain and the circumstances you've been thrown into?"

"Well I've been shot, beaten up, run over and even trampled by a bull, so I'm no stranger to hospitals, but I've never been this bad before. I don't know what else to think it could be other than the morphine. Of course, you could be right too, but I won't know unless you agree I can try something else... please." He looked pleadingly at Dr Cranmer.

"Hmm! I'm certain Tylenol on its own is not going to be strong enough to control the pain without the morphine? You have an extremely serious injury there and its very early days. I'm not happy to stop the morphine completely, but I will reduce it a little more, and I'll also put you on a stronger strength of Tylenol at a dose of eight per day. I'll add in an anti-inflammatory drug with less side-effects to compensate for the reduction in the morphine. If that doesn't prove sufficient there are other avenues we can go down, but I cannot stress strongly enough that you must speak out if the pain is bad. You can't expect to do the necessary exercises that Dr Truman will insist on without adequate pain relief beforehand. Don't let yourself be a martyr to the pain. Is that clear? Are you happy with that plan?"

"Yes, sir, I think I can manage on that and I'll promise to speak up if I can't. I have a high pain threshold Dr Cranmer," he looked down at his leg and grimaced, "but not that high."

"I see from your chart that your other wounds have been cleaned and dressed and the staff are happy with their progress. We'll take the stitches out at seven days. Any other questions?"

"How soon will I be able to shower? Am I even going to be able to shower with this frame on?"

"From the point of view of the injuries under my care, I'd be happy for you to shower once the burns have dried up, so maybe at about ten days, but with regard to your leg... well that's more in Dr Truman's jurisdiction rather than mine, so you'll have to be guided by him. I think he'll probably allow it about ten to fourteen days post-op providing you're on crutches by then, but you really must take it up with him. You'll have to manage with Walt's strip washes in the meantime. Now if that's all?... then I'll be off. I'm pleased with your progress, but don't rush it, young man. Remember it's still early days." Dr Cranmer left the room and shortly after Walt came in with a mug of tea for Steve.

"Liz asked me to bring you this. She thought you might be able to stomach it by now." He smiled broadly and placed it on the bed table, turned and left the room again.

"Thanks, Walt," Steve called after him all the while thinking that Walt's strip washes were no real substitute for a lovely warm, relaxing shower. Steve drank the tea, savouring it slowly. It was the one thing that always tasted good in here. He'd hardly finished it when the door opened again and Rick and Dr Truman walked in.

"Good morning young man. How are we today?" He picked up the chart and studied it.

"Well, I'm doing okay, sir, thank you, though I obviously can't speak for you!" Steve replied a little peevishly.

Dr Truman didn't speak. He didn't need to. He simply took his eyes off the chart to give Steve a long stare.

"I'm sorry, sir, that was rude and uncalled for. I apologise. I'm just feeling a little fragile this morning. Dr Cranmer and I feel it might be to do with the dose of morphine so he's going to try reducing it."

"Yes, I can see that from the chart for myself. I'm not sure I'm too happy about that. Adequate pain relief is essential, Steve, and especially to provide cover prior to the exercises." He turned to Rick. "Has he started the exercises yet?"

"Not yet, Dr Truman. We're going to start the programme today with gentle massage and work our way up."

"Oh whoopee-do!" Steve murmured under his breath. "That's something else to look forward to."

"Did you say something?" Dr Truman asked as he again stared long and hard at Steve.

"I said I'm looking forward to starting the exercises, sir. The sooner the better!" Steve was trying to avoid looking at Rick who was struggling to hold it together.

"Hmm! Now why don't I believe you... eh?" He paused... then turned to Rick and continued. "I expected you to begin with light massage and exercises yesterday. What happened? Why weren't my instructions followed?"

Rick fixed Steve with a stare and Steve realised he was willing him to stay silent. Then Rick spoke up in Steve's defence. "Steve was excessively sleepy yesterday. It was my considered opinion that he wouldn't have been able to concentrate sufficiently to comply and absorb the instructions being less than 24 hours out of the ICU. I felt I would get better results with him today. I've drawn up a programme and will start him on it after you've finished your ward round... sir."

"Harrumph!" Dr Truman made a strange disdainful snort.

Steve didn't dare move a facial muscle, but he could see the man was none too pleased.

"I don't like my orders being countermanded, but it makes sense I suppose and I trust your judgement, Rick, but make sure he does start today. Every day of delay now means a day lost from his recovery. Let's have a look at this leg. Have you been instructed on the most important pin site care?" he barked.

Rick and Steve visibly relaxed a little.

"Yes, sir, fully instructed." Steve shuddered at the memory.

"That all looks very good I'm pleased to say. No signs of any infection but we'll keep you on the antibiotics for another couple of days as a precaution and for your other wounds." He made a few notes on the chart. "Any questions young man?" He fixed Steve with yet another stare that almost willed him not to answer.

"No, sir, I'm happy to start the massage, though I have to say I'm somewhat concerned about the exercises at this stage due to the pain in my thigh and particularly in my knee but, as you say, the sooner I start the sooner I'll recover." In light of what Dr Cranmer had said he decided not to ask about showering. Rick could fill him in on that later.

"Very well. I'll see you in a few days. I'm away for the weekend. Dr Cranmer or my resident, Dr Greenberg, will monitor your pain and general care and Rick will update me on the progress he makes with your physical therapy on Monday. I'll be off now but... remember to do as you're told. It's all being done for your benefit. Just hold on to that thought when Rick is pushing you."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," Steve bridled, but then thought it was best not to push it but to keep his mouth shut.

Dr Truman turned and left the room with Rick closely in tow. As Rick reached the open doorway he turned back and quickly gave Steve a smile and a thumbs-up sign and said "I'll be back later."

"I'll look forward to it," Steve replied with a sarcastic look, but all the time he was wondering how hard this therapy was going to be and would he be able to stand it?

He settled back against the pillows again. Gosh he was tired. He wondered if he had time for a brief nap before Rick returned. He lay back and shut his eyes willing himself to just drift off. Sleep was beginning to envelop him when he heard the door open again and he lifted his head off the pillow.

"Good morning, Buddy Boy. How are we today?" Mike swept through the door with a bright and cheery smile on his face.

"Good lord, it's busier than a BART station in here today!" Steve said as he frowned at Mike. "I've already been asked that several times this morning and I'm fine thanks, though I can't speak for how you're feeling." He knew he was being unreasonable but couldn't help himself.

"O-Oh! A little touchy again aren't we?" Mike frowned back at Steve and Steve felt really bad for snapping... yet again.

Steve took a deep breath and sighed. "No, Mike, you're not... I am. I'm sorry that was uncalled for. I didn't mean it. It's just been non-stop for the last 4 hours, one person after another. I think they should just put a revolving door on my room." He said as he tried to make light of his bad behaviour.

Mike looked him over and coaxed gently, "Come on, it's not like you to bite my head off like that. What's up? Are you not feeling so good, is that it?"

"No, I'm just getting tired I think and I don't think the morphine is suiting me so Dr Cranmer is reducing it, and Liz has been in teaching me pin site and frame care, and Dr Truman has been in to see me and he's been laying the law down again, and now Rick's coming back soon to start me on my exercises, and then you..." He began to shudder and forced himself to take some deep breaths.

"And then I walk in all bright and breezy huh? Is that it? You're tired, Steve, that's all. What's happened to you in the last few days would break a weaker man. Don't be so hard on yourself. If it helps, I won't stay. Perhaps you need some shut-eye before Rick descends upon you."

"No, I'm sorry... really, Mike, please stay. I think I need you to calm my ruffled feathers!" And with that he smiled and held out his hand to Mike who took it and lightly squeezed it.

"What's in the bag?"

"In the bag? In the bag?" Mike looked around him. "Oh, you mean this bag?" He looked down at the bag he'd placed on the foot of Steve's bed. "Well, I brought you the Chronicle and the Financial Times, and I went by your apartment and brought you some more clean underwear and clean pyjamas. Oh, and I picked up your mail too and brought that in... not the circulars but just what looked like the important stuff. I cleared your fridge and larder cupboard of anything that wouldn't keep, and there were some dirty towels in your bathroom and dirty washing in your laundry basket, so I've taken that too and I'll launder it at home for you and take it back. Then I went to that Deli you like on Folsom Street and got you a pork and stuffing roll with a Caesar side salad and one of those slices of blueberry pie that you like so much. Did I do right?"

Steve looked at Mike as he spoke and swallowed hard as his throat tightened and his eyes welled up. He thought he'd been having a busy morning, but it was nothing compared to Mike. He'd no doubt been up since the crack of dawn, spent time in the office, and then found time to go round to his apartment to clean up and then put himself out again to go buy him appetising food... and all before noon. And all he could do was feel sorry for himself and bite Mike's head off. He hadn't got the heart to tell him his boxers and pyjamas weren't going to be suitable. There was time for that later. God, how he loved this man.

"Hey, hey. Don't upset yourself." Mike patted his arm then gripped his hand as he sat gently on the side of Steve's bed.

"It's just... just... oh I don't know... everything I guess. I don't know if I can do this, Mike, you know... all this wound hygiene and... and the sheer thought of exercising gives me the shakes. I can't have a shower, and I'm sick of lying around, and the morphine is making me feel so strange, and I can't control my temper and..."

"Enough, Steve! Enough! Now just take it easy and take in some nice deep and steady breaths till you calm down."

Steve knew he'd heard all this before earlier in the day from Liz, but he said nothing and just did what Mike told him. Slowly he felt himself settling again.

"You mustn't beat yourself up like this, Steve. Everything you've just said is just you having a perfectly normal reaction to an absolutely dreadful situation. It's a lot to take in and an awful lot to face in the future, but you'll do it, Buddy Boy, just like you always do. You're probably the strongest person I know, and you don't have to do it alone. We'll do it... together... you and me. You know... when I took you on as my partner it was like committing to a marriage." He laughed at the expression on Steve's face. "Oh, you may mock but it's true... you promised to obey me for better or worse... in sickness and in health... only without the fringe benefits. Ha ha!" He laughed out loud, and Steve had to smile too.

"You forgot the 'to have and to hold, to love and to cherish' bit," Steve sniggered.

"Oh well, that goes without saying, Smiley." He touched Steve's cheek. "Together, Steve. We're in it together and don't you forget it. You tell me any time it all gets too much for you and I'll help you find a way through. Okay? You got that?"

"I got it, Mike... and thanks." He pulled a tissue out of the box on the bed table and blew his nose. "Just one more thing." He looked up at Mike as he stood up to leave.

"Sure, anything."

"Did you remember the cranberry sauce on the pork roll?"

Mike reached out and grabbed the back of Steve's neck. "Did I remember the cranberry sauce? Yes, hot-shot. I did."

After Mike left, Steve managed to eat just half the roll and then left the rest for later. He lay back as exhaustion from his recent emotions and his busy morning washed over him and within minutes he was asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Once again I'd like to thank you all for the amazing reviews including those from the guest reviewers (both named and un-named) who I'm not able to personally private message to thank. They are very much appreciated. Special thanks also to Amanda England for your persistence to post even though you're struggling with computer issues. As a first time writer, I was worried my story might be too detailed but, from the reviews and the private messages I've received so far, it seems you're all quite happy with the detailed content so I must be doing something right. I'm so glad you're all coming along for the ride but you may need to fasten your seatbelts for this particular update. Enjoy.

Chapter 15

Little did Steve know, but his very busy day was set to continue in the same vein, that is until Mike bumped into Rick in the middle of the corridor as he left Steve's room and headed towards the elevator.

"Hi, Mike. Have you just left Steve? I'm just on my way in to see him and start his treatment. I'm not sure how thrilled he'll be but we have to start sometime and Dr Truman would prefer it was sooner rather than later."

"Rick, could I talk to you please... over here maybe?" He led Rick to the side of the corridor.

"Sure, Mike. Fire away."

"It's like this... Steve's had a very busy morning just one thing after another, first Walt, then pin site care with Liz, then Dr Cranmer and Dr Truman, then me, all just following on from each other and he's... well... he's exhausted and he's just had a bit of a melt-down, I'm afraid."

Rick looked concerned. "Is he okay?"

"Oh yes, yes, he'll be fine, he's very resilient, but is there any way you could delay his physio session... just for an hour or so... just to give him a break... you know?" Mike concentrated hard on Rick's face.

"Sure, Mike, if you think he's not ready yet. I was going to see Steve, then head off for my lunch break but I can easily take an early break and go to him straight after that. Will that help? I know he's worried about the treatment. Is there anything I should be aware of?"

"No, not really. He's just tired and a bit overwhelmed by everything that's been put before him this morning. It's a lot to take in and, as you say, he's very apprehensive about these exercises. Don't get me wrong. Steve's a strong guy, probably one of the strongest and most determined men I know, but it's because he's so used to being so strong that he can't stand being seen to be weak and to crumble under pressure. 'Even the strongest amongst us can have their moments of weakness and need to break down once in a while'." Mike said as his mind wandered. "I wonder where I heard that quote... probably from Steve, he's full of them especially in the car on a quiet night duty. It never ceases to amaze me what he can come out with at times. He's a walking dictionary, thesaurus and book of quotations all rolled into one. Sorry, I'm getting side-tracked. I'd just appreciate it if he could have a bit of a break, just for an hour or so, to wind down a bit. Would that be okay?"

"Consider it done. I'll even go and have a word with Liz and ask her to put a 'No visitors' sign on the door for a while. Give him a break. How's that for you? And don't worry, when I start the exercises I won't push him too hard at all. I plan a very gradual build-up." He smiled at Mike.

"Oh, I think he'll expect you to eventually push him hard and I know he'll want to get the exercises started soon, but I'm just concerned that it's too soon. His leg is still very swollen and it's still only 4 days post-op, not that I would want to interfere of course. You and Dr Truman know best. Thanks for agreeing to delay for an hour or so. It's just that he'll be all the better for the rest when he does start his treatment but... not a word to Steve about our chat please."

"Mum's the word," Rick assured Mike.

"Thanks. I must go. I'm in court this afternoon. Bye." Mike hurried down the hall to the elevator.

On the way to the courthouse Mike stopped off to ring Roy. "Hi Roy, it's Mike. Listen, I know you were planning on popping in to see Steve this afternoon, but he has his first session with his PT, so I wonder if you could leave it till tomorrow if that suits you too... Okay, thanks... Yes, I'm just off to court now. Bye." That's another one diverted, he thought.

Just after 2.00 pm Rick took the sign off Steve's door and returned it to the nurses' station, then he went back to Steve's room with a mug of tea in his hand. Steve was lying back on his pillows and just waking up. Rick put the tea into Steve's out-stretched hand. "I thought perhaps you could use a little lubrication before we start... the tea I mean," he joked and then began to lay out some paperwork, some towels, two dumbbells and a bottle of baby oil.

"Thanks, you're a life-saver. I could murder a drink." He drank deeply of the tea. "Lovely, just what I needed. What's with the baby oil?" Steve looked a little askance as he watched Rick intently.

"Don't worry, I don't have designs on your virtue," he joked. "It's lubrication of a different kind." After waiting a few minutes he was ready to start. "Now, if you've finished that tea, I'll just lower the back of the bed so you can recline back a bit further. That's it. Now relax." Rick continued to sort out what he needed before the treatment began. "Now, I want you to work on your upper body strength with the dumbbells as much and as often as you can over the next few days. Your arms are going to be taking a lot of your weight and need to be strong. As you build up I can increase the weight of them a little. Now there's six different exercises for your injured leg that I'll work up to over the coming days, and you'll be expected to do each one so many times a day every day." He saw Steve frown and wince at the thought. "Don't worry, we won't start them immediately. We'll gradually work our way up to the strength and frequency of them. I have printed sheets here for you to study with diagrams of the exercises, and you'll do them in a specific order for a specific number of times every day, as I said, to get your muscles working again after this period of bed rest that you've had. There are also some basic exercises for your right leg to mobilise it again and we'll begin with those."

Rick drew back the covers from over Steve's right leg, laid one of the large towels under his leg, picked up the bottle and applied some oil and began to massage it in. He went up and down the thigh for a few minutes and then up and down the lower leg avoiding the burned areas. Steve was a little embarrassed at first but, guided by Rick's consummate professionalism, he allowed himself to relax and give himself up to the soothing massage. After about five minutes Rick stopped the massage and wiped his hands on a towel.

"Now these are the flexion and extension exercises I want you to do with your right leg simply to keep it flexible." And for the next few minutes Steve did the exercises as he was told.

"Very good, Steve. Those are simple exercises and you can do them at any time at your own convenience. Your right leg will be fully weight-bearing with your crutches, so you need to keep it strong and healthy. Now let's see about your left leg." He gently raised the sling that was taking the weight of Steve's leg and removed one of the pillows from under Steve's leg, then he laid a towel over the remaining pillow and gently lowered the sling again. He then unclipped the sling so that Steve's leg was just supported by the pillow. Steve had closed his eyes and held his breath the whole time Rick was doing this, and he now let it out with a slow pain-filled hiss. He was dreading what was to come.

"I don't have to do those same exercises on this leg today, do I?" There was genuine fear in his voice.

"No, of course not. Don't look so worried. I told you we'll build up gradually over several days. For today it'll be little more than massage. Just relax, you're in safe hands." He smiled reassuringly at Steve who had immediately tensed up when the suggestion came to move on to his still very painful left leg.

Rick once again picked up the baby oil and began light massage of Steve's lower leg and calf muscles, again avoiding the still sore burned areas. Steve gritted his teeth and drew a sharp intake of breath as Rick's fingers moved towards his very swollen and bruised knee. Rick stopped his massage.

"Steve, you need to relax. Stop leaning forward. Put your head back on the pillow and loosen your shoulders and let them relax back. Now loosen your hands... you're clenching your fists. Lay them flat at your side or across your stomach and relax. Trust me, Steve, I know what I'm doing, and I'll not deliberately hurt you. Okay?" He picked up the oil again.

"Believe me, I do trust you, and I know you'll be gentle and careful, and I trust you to not deliberately hurt me, but it's the accidental hurt I'm bothered about. My knee is incredibly painful. I can't help being wary... well not just wary... more like scared stiff... of you touching it." Steve's voice spoke falteringly and sweat had broken out on his brow at just the thought of the excruciating pain he was expecting. He began to wish he'd asked for more pain meds before Rick started.

"Have you never heard the expression 'no pain, no gain', Steve?"

"If that's supposed to reassure me, let me tell you that it didn't work!"

Rick smiled. "Half the trouble with your knee is that the swelling and inactivity has caused it to seize up, so I need to begin to free up those muscles and get your knee mobile again. Now relax back. Lie back, Steve. That's it... and relax."

Rick very, very gently began light massage of Steve's knee. He worked his fingers slowly and carefully over the top and front of the knee over and over again. Steve was gritting his teeth and holding his breath as the waves of pain washed over him. He knew and accepted it was necessary, but he really didn't know if he could stand much more of this dreadful pain. He willed himself to try to relax but he just couldn't. Just then Rick began to slowly work his fingers behind the knee and then he applied light pressure to the muscles at the back. Steve suddenly arched his back up and drew his breath in with a hiss. Rick moved to massage again and this time Steve shouted out. He couldn't bear the agony.

"Rick! No! Please! No! Oh, dear God! No!" He picked his head and shoulders up from the bed and reached an imploring hand out to Rick. "Please stop, Rick, please."

Rick removed his hands and placed a hand on Steve's arm.

"Okay... it's alright... just relax... I'm sorry... that last bit was a little too much, wasn't it? Just breathe deeply, Steve." He gently pushed on Steve's shoulder to get him to lie back on the bed. Steve's hand was across his eyes and his breath was coming in short gasps. His eyes were closed tight and his jaw was clenched and teeth gritted as he fought his way through the waves of pain passing through his knee and up into his thigh. Suddenly he pushed himself up. He'd turned very white and his lips were bloodless.

"I'm going to throw up! Get me a bowl... quick!" Rick ran to the bathroom and came back with a bowl just in time as Steve cast up the contents of his stomach. Rick reached above the bed and pressed the red emergency button for the nurse to come to the room.

Within a few seconds Liz Kendrick hurried through the door with two other nurses. As she took in what had happened she quietly dismissed one nurse but asked the other to stay with her as she moved towards the bed.

"Hey, what's going on here?" she said gently. She took the bowl from Rick but kept it under Steve as she asked Rick to raise the head of the bed so Steve could sit up more comfortably. Steve retched again and again, and still it went on until he felt there was nothing else to bring up and, even then, he retched some more.

"Will it never stop?" he whispered. "I just want to fade away and die." He dry retched again.

Liz spoke quietly to the nurse at the side of her. "Pat, go and page Dr Cranmer for me will you please. Tell him it's urgent." The other nurse hurried from the room.

"Just breathe deeply, Steve, and remember what I told you this morning. That's it... one... two... three." Eventually Steve's breathing slowed a little and he lay back with his eyes closed and his hand once more across his eyes.

"Don't take the bowl away yet," he spoke through deep breaths, but Liz quickly took it to the bathroom, emptied and rinsed it and emerged with a clean bowl and a cold, wet cloth. She went back to Steve's side and placed the bowl on the bed at the side of Steve within his reach. She carefully sponged his face and around his mouth, then she wiped around his neck area, finally leaving the cool cloth to rest on the back of his neck. He was dripping with sweat. She returned to the bathroom and brought another cold wet cloth to place across his forehead. All this time Rick was carefully watching Steve, never taking his eyes off his pain-wracked face.

"What the hell happened here, Rick?" Liz asked quietly in an aside that Steve couldn't hear.

"We were doing fine till I reached behind the back of his knee and he just erupted in pain. I guess it was just too much for him." Rick was shaking with the suddenness of what just happened.

"Too right it was! I'm not happy about this Rick. He clearly wasn't ready for this level of physio." Liz continued to wipe the cool cloth over Steve's feverish body.

Rick moved closer to the side of the bed and touched Steve's arm. "I'm sorry, Steve. Truly I am. It was all maybe a bit much and a bit too soon for you. I realised your pain would be bad, but I didn't expect it to be this severe. I thought, with the morphine to counteract the pain, that you would cope better than this. I should've taken it easier, or maybe postponed the treatment a bit longer. I'm sorry."

"It's not... your fault... Rick. It's... mine." Steve spoke falteringly and painfully. "I asked Dr Cranmer to... reduce the strength of the morphine... because of... the side-effects. He warned me... it probably... wouldn't be sufficient and... dear God, he was right... I'll have to go back... on the higher dose of morphine... or get... pain relief of... a different kind."

Finally, he seemed to relax a little. He still felt nauseous but at least the acute pain was easing to a slightly more bearable deep throbbing ache. The door to his room opened and Dr Cranmer walked in.

"What's happened, Nurse?... Rick?" he asked of both of them. Rick quickly told him what had transpired.

"I can assure you I gave nothing more than gentle massage to the knee. His pain level must have been off the scale."

Liz also imparted her report to Dr Cranmer about the violent vomiting Steve had endured.

"Is Dr Truman available this evening?" he asked of Rick.

"No, sir, he finished up this afternoon and he's gone away with his wife for the weekend. I believe it's their wedding anniversary tomorrow."

Dr Cranmer was very thoughtful, then he pulled up the chair at the side of the bed and sat down and laid his hand on Steve's wrist surreptitiously feeling his pulse. It was racing. Steve turned his head to look at him with pain-racked eyes. He looked to be almost totally physically drained.

"Oh dear, Steve. Don't say I didn't warn you. I was afraid of this. Without a high enough level of morphine to cover the pain it was just too much for you, wasn't it?"

Steve merely nodded and just then he dry-retched again. Dr Cranmer reached for the bowl and held it under him but Steve had nothing else inside to bring up and Dr Cranmer could see he was exhausted by the retching. He spoke to Rick again.

"If it was just the fractured leg, or just the dislocated knee, I could understand Dr Truman being anxious to commence treatment, but this young man has suffered both injuries at the same time, each of which are extremely painful on their own let alone combined. I want him to have absolute rest for that leg until I can liaise with Dr Truman on Monday. Is that clear? No more treatment on that knee till we figure out what's going on and are able to settle him with adequate pain relief. The morphine is upsetting him, so we'll try something else, probably Fentanyl. It's a lot stronger than morphine so we'll just give him a low dose to start with and work our way up to an acceptable level and, hopefully, he'll tolerate it better. I'll also speak to Dr Truman about a quick but short-acting pain killer that can be taken just before his therapy sessions to ensure he has adequate cover for the pain to get him through them. I'll also speak to Dr Truman's resident as I think I'd like another X ray of that knee tomorrow morning just to check we haven't missed anything. I'll get him to arrange it."

He turned back to Steve. "Now I think we'll give you something for the nausea as well as the pain and both combined will help you to get some rest."

"I don't care what you give me as long as you make it stop. I was prepared for it to be bad but not that bad. I'm sorry, but I can't take much more." Steve was still holding the bowl and he dry-retched yet again. He was clearly both mentally and physically exhausted and on the verge of a complete collapse.

Dr Cranmer turned to Liz and spoke to her, and she hurriedly left the room returning a couple of minutes later with two syringes and two phials. She showed them to Dr Cranmer who nodded and then she quickly swabbed Steve's upper arm and administered the contents of first one phial then the other.

"That should soon ease you, Steve. Let it do its work and try to relax. I'll leave you to get some rest." He turned aside and spoke to Liz. "I'll look in again later this evening to see if he's settled, but if there are any problems you can call me again. In the meantime, wait till he's properly sedated then I want ice packs either side of the knee on and off on a regular basis for the next twenty-four hours. That should help ease the pain. Oh, and absolutely no visitors for the rest of the day. He needs complete rest." He patted Steve's arm and left.

Rick and Liz tidied the room, pulled the covers back over Steve and adjusted the sling and left him to sleep. Liz again put the 'No Visitors' sign back on the door. She decided to look in every fifteen minutes to keep an eye on him, but each time she did he was still sleeping peacefully. The drugs and ice packs were doing the trick. She went to the desk to phone Mike and advise him of the situation. She didn't want him to have a wasted visit this evening if he decided to pop in and see Steve again and, as his designated next-of-kin, she felt he had a right to know what had happened. She rang his office number, but a different voice answered the phone.

"Could I speak to Lieutenant Stone please. This is Nurse Kendrick at San Francisco General."

"Oh hello, Nurse Kendrick. I'm sorry but Mike's not in the office at the moment. Can I take a message? It's Bill Tanner. I was the one who visited yesterday evening."

"The giggler?"

Bill cringed. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Can I help? Is anything wrong with Steve?"

Liz quickly and briefly relayed what had happened that afternoon and asked Bill to pass the message to Mike.

"Will Steve be okay?"

"Yes, he'll be fine. Dr Cranmer has ordered absolute rest this evening with no visitors. Please tell Mike not to come in and be sure to tell him not to worry. Steve will be fine once he's rested. Thank you, Bill."

After she rang off Bill sat thoughtfully then checked his notebook and picked up the receiver and dialled a number. "Mr Moretti? Hi, it's Bill Tanner. I called in yesterday about some clothes I'd bought for Steve Keller."

"I remember, Mr Tanner. I was to call and see him later today to discuss altering them."

Bill briefly told Mario Moretti Steve wasn't well enough to see him tonight and said he would let him know as soon as Steve improved. He rang off again and returned to work at his own desk. His heart ached for his young friend. When he thought of the laughter they had shared less than twenty-four hours before, and now Steve was being completely sedated because of the extreme pain he was in, it made him realise just how tenuous Steve's condition was at the moment. He also wondered if Mike would accept the news without rushing off to the hospital and demanding to see Steve. He carried on with his work with one eye on the door waiting for Mike to come into the office.

Some time later that afternoon, Mike returned from the court in the Halls of Justice and came back into the office. Bill quickly brought him up to date with Nurse Kendrick's phone call. At first, he was anxious to rush off to the hospital, but when Bill emphasised Dr Cranmer's 'No Visitors' rule, Mike was not happy at all.

"I need to see him, Bill. I told him I'd be there for him whenever he needed me and maybe he's expecting me to call in and, when I don't, he'll think I'm not bothered." Mike was all hyped up and Bill was trying his best to calm him down.

"Mike, she told me they're keeping him heavily sedated. He probably won't even notice you're not there."

"And what if he does? What then? He spends the evening on his own fretting as to why I haven't come? I'm going to ring the hospital and find out for myself." With that he picked up the phone, dialled the hospital and asked to be put through to the relevant nurses' station.

"Hello, Nurse Kendrick speaking. Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so. This is Mike Stone. I'm calling about..."

Liz cut him short. "Oh hello, Mike. I guess you got the message and you're anxious about Steve. He's resting now and is quite comfortable. Dr Cranmer authorised a strong painkiller and an anti-emetic and instructed that Steve is to be kept sedated for the rest of the evening. He'll liaise about his pain control with Dr Truman on Monday and we'll know more then of what they can offer him. He's also requested another X ray of Steve's knee tomorrow, just to check nothing has been missed that would cause the extreme pain."

Her words somewhat reassured Mike but he still wasn't happy. "Why Monday? Why can't he speak to him tonight?" he barked down the phone.

"Dr Truman has gone away for the weekend and won't be back in till Monday," she explained.

"Gone away? Oh, that's just great isn't it? He's been pushing Steve too much. I said as much to Rick this afternoon. I was worried the treatment was starting too soon. Is it right that he's not allowed visitors tonight... not even myself?"

"Those are Dr Cranmer's orders and to be honest, even if you did come in, Steve wouldn't be aware that you were here. He really is heavily sedated."

Bill had been right about that, but Mike was still very agitated and not easily calmed by Liz's reassurance. "Why was this allowed to happen, that's what I want to know? It's obvious to anyone with only one eye and half a brain that Steve's leg was not ready for intensive physical therapy. Why did Rick push it so far? He's supposed to be an experienced physical therapist. Surely he was aware of the damage he was causing?" Mike was getting more and more stressed out.

"Mike, please calm down. No permanent damage has been done, I assure you. Now, if you'll come in tomorrow morning, or phone about 10am, Dr Cranmer will meet with you and he can explain more clearly just what the problem was. Until then, you have to take my word for it that Steve is resting peacefully and Dr Cranmer was acting in Steve's best interests when he gave the order for no visitors. Now, you need to go home and get some rest yourself and we'll see you in the morning. Okay? I'm sorry but I must go. I have other patients to see to. Go home and get some rest. Goodnight, Mike." She replaced the receiver and Mike was left feeling decidedly admonished and very worried.

He sat on at his desk just staring into space for a good half-hour till finally Bill broke into his absent-minded pre-occupation.

"I'm off home, Mike. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Oh, no thanks, Bill. There's no chance of me getting in to see Steve tonight so I guess I'd better get off home too and try and get some rest myself. You get off and I'll follow you out."

Bill was left with the feeling that, though Mike would go home, he doubted the man would get much sleep tonight. There were questions he wanted to ask and he wouldn't rest until he got the answers he needed.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Saturday morning dawned dark, dull and wet which seemed to suit Steve's mood. He woke very early just after 5.00 am and, as he recalled the events of the previous afternoon, he was little short of mortified that his reaction to a little gentle massage had caused so much pain and anxiety for himself and so much trouble for everyone else. He had slept straight through the evening and night sedated by the pain and anti-nausea meds, but now desperately needed the bathroom and he was also very thirsty. Getting more used now to swallowing his pride in the cause of necessity and comfort, he rang for the night nurse and, shortly after, June Holloway quietly entered his room.

"Hello there, Steve, had a good sleep? How's your pain?" She was glad to see he looked a lot better and less pale than when she came on duty the night before.

"Hey, June. It's bearable at the moment, thanks, and I have to say I feel much easier and rested." He yawned widely and then smiled at June. "Sorry, I guess I'm still not properly awake yet."

"That's alright. I'm glad to hear your pain is still under control because you're not due for your next shot for another two hours."

"Oh, it wasn't the pain in my leg that woke me, though I must say my ribs are awfully sore from the retching so I wouldn't say no to some Tylenol if I could please. I called you because I really need to use the bathroom and I wonder if you could pour me some water too, please. My glass is empty and I'm awfully thirsty and I can't reach the jug on the bedside cupboard."

June headed towards the bathroom talking as she went. "I'll get you a bottle and how about I go and make you a nice hot drink. What would you like? Tea, decaf coffee, hot chocolate? You name it and if I've got it you can have it, cookies too if you'd like some." She brought the bottle back and placed it on the bed at the side of him then picked up the jug and poured some water into his glass and moved the bed table closer.

"Tea would be wonderful. Milk, no sugar please, but I'll pass on the cookies. My mouth feels like the bottom of a bird cage. At least the nausea has settled. It was so awful last night, and I just feel so embarrassed that I reacted in the way I did. It's not like me to be like that. Rick and Liz must have wondered what on earth was up with me." Steve looked rather shamefaced as he mulled over the events of the previous afternoon.

"From what I heard when Liz and I did the change over last night, you have nothing to be sorry or embarrassed about. Your pain must have been excruciating to give you a reaction like that. Now stop worrying, use that bottle and I'll be back with your tea and some pills." She left the room as quietly as she had entered, returning about ten minutes later. She placed the mug of tea in his outstretched hand and removed the bottle to the bathroom.

"That's great," Steve thanked her, and June smiled at Steve as he drank the tea thirstily and swallowed the pills. Then he glanced up at her with a rueful expression on his sad face. "I really made a spectacle of myself yesterday didn't I?"

As he looked at June with sadness and a feeling almost akin to shame, she decided the time was right for this very personable young man to hear some straight-talking. She usually found quiet times like this just before dawn were when many people did their deepest thinking and when they were also most receptive to advice. She sat herself down on the chair at the side of the bed and placed her hand lightly on his forearm. "I want you to stop beating yourself up about yesterday. What happened happened, and it's over and done with. It's how you move forward that matters. I want you to listen carefully and absorb what I'm going to say. Dr Cranmer has reviewed your meds and written you up for some different ones. With all that's available to you, there's no need for the pain to ever get that bad again. Liz told me you'd tried to manage on less morphine and rely more on Tylenol instead. Take it from me, reducing pain meds is really not a good idea at this stage of your recovery. It's still very early days in the healing process."

"It was the side-effects that were bothering me. That's why I asked to reduce the morphine." Steve tried to explain but June cut him short.

"I know why you did it, Steve. So what if you are experiencing side-effects from the drugs? Aren't they preferable to what you went through yesterday? Think what you've been through in the last few days, including the fear of the initial rescue. You're extremely lucky even to be alive! Your body needs time to recover, not just from the physical shock, but from the mental shock of the injuries it sustained and the aftermath." She paused and studied his face as he concentrated on what she was saying to him and she could see she was getting through to him. "Tell me, I can see from your records that you've been in here several times before and I know the job you do has its risks, but is this the worst you've ever been injured?"

"Yes, absolutely the worst. I'm a little prone to getting myself into a fix but this was a doozy. Act first... think later, that's me all over," he smiled ruefully. "Mike says I'll be the death of him one day."

"Well, from what I hear, what you did for that family was incredibly brave, but the time for bravery has passed, Steve. Trust me, I'm very experienced in caring for orthopaedic patients and I've seen hundreds of them pass through my care. The best advice I can give you is, don't try to tough it out. Take whatever meds are offered to you, particularly prior to your PT sessions. If you think yesterday's session was bad, just wait till the proper exercises begin in earnest and, believe me, you won't get through them without adequate pain relief." She patted his hand when she saw the grimace on Steve's face. "I'm not trying to frighten you. I'm simply telling you as it is. There's a time and a place for heroics and yours was last Monday night. From now on get yourself into the mind-set of taking whatever help that you can get from the meds and just accept the side-effects as an unavoidable evil. In the short time you've been under our care, I think we've all seen through the side-effects to your true nature. Stop worrying about upsetting other people. We know it's the pain and the drugs knocking you haywire and we're all prepared to make allowances for you... your friends included. As time goes on and you get stronger and the injuries heal, you'll be able to cut them down a little at a time but, for the moment, it's far too soon. Am I making sense? Is all this sinking in?" June smiled broadly at the very pleasant young man lying there looking so vulnerable in the hospital bed.

"Total and absolute sense, June. I was so sick and in so much pain yesterday I almost felt that death would have been preferable, and all Rick had attempted was a little gentle massage of my knee. I wasn't aware of much while I was throwing up, but what I was aware of was that the poor guy was devastated at the thought that he'd been the cause of my pain and vomiting. It's not fair of me to put him through that again. I was giving this a lot of thought while you were fetching my tea. The strange thing is that, although my pain had been pretty bad, it hadn't really been totally off the scale until he started to move my knee. Heaven knows it was painful enough when just lying around immobile, but I just wasn't prepared for the severity of the pain when he tried to move it. I'd only asked Dr Crammer to reduce the morphine because of the side-effects I was experiencing... the light-headedness and nausea, and particularly my mood swings. I think Rick had assumed I'd taken plenty pain relief before my session with him began, but I thought he was coming earlier and had taken the extra dose of Tylenol that I was given, but then he didn't come till much later and I think either they must've started to wear off or they just weren't strong enough. In future I think Rick needs to give me more warning of when a session is due to happen so I can be well topped up with my meds. Clearly we need to both be on the same page for these PT sessions or I'm very much afraid it could happen again. Neither of us want to go through that again and Rick and I found that out the hard way."

"I didn't know that... about the timing of the session being changed. Hmm! That answers a lot of questions. It also reinforces the need for you to accept stronger meds and to take them at the right time to avoid a repeat performance."

"I will. I've learnt my lesson and I'm certainly in no hurry to make that mistake again."

"Good man because, believe me, it's not nice for any of us to have to see a patient as distressed as I've been told you were last night. I'll let you into a secret." She leaned further in towards Steve and dropped her voice. "If you think Rick was upset, you should've seen Dr Cranmer. Liz told me she could tell he was annoyed with himself for not counselling you better regarding your meds and allowing you to talk him into reducing the morphine. It's not often she's seen him shaken but he was last night. You have the ability to make strong impressions on people, Steve, and not always for the best reasons." She smiled at him and he felt the genuine warmth of her smile.

"I'll try and remember all you've said, June. You should try talking sense into me more often. Perhaps I should take you home with me and keep you in a cupboard and just bring you out again to soothe me in times of stress, particularly in the middle of the night when I need a little TLC."

June raised her eyebrows at him and laughed. "Oh, I'm sure a good-looking guy like you already has a lovely lady in your life who could do that for you."

As Steve realised the indelicacy of what he'd just said, he looked at June with sheer mortification on his face and saw her eyes twinkling merrily back at him.

"Oh my God, June, I'm so sorry. That must've sounded awfully crass. It didn't come out how I meant it to. I didn't mean soothe... like... in that way... I meant... just keep you in a cupboard for when... well, not in a cupboard but... Oh hell, I should stop digging myself into a hole shouldn't I?" He squirmed as he heard her laughing.

June patted him on the arm and laughed at the look on his face. "I think you should. It's getting deeper by the minute. Don't worry, I know exactly what you meant, and you haven't offended me in the slightest, in fact you've given me the best laugh I've had in ages. I'll take it as the compliment that I'm sure you meant it to be. I meant it about the girlfriend though. I haven't seen any lady here to visit you. Is there someone special in your life or would you rather not say? Tell me if it's none of my business."

Steve looked wistful. "There's no-one special at the moment. We broke up about six weeks ago. I won't deny there have been one or two ladies in my life over the years." He smiled at the raised eyebrows on June's face. "Well, maybe a few. Okay, I'll admit, quite a few. I've come close to settling down a couple of times but, for one reason or another, it's never really worked out. Being a cop, with the crazy hours and the inevitable risks of the job, isn't conducive to a long-term relationship. Perhaps I haven't tried hard enough, or maybe I just haven't met 'the one' yet. Mike says I'm the 'love 'em and leave 'em' kind of guy who's too afraid of commitment. He always says I'm too happy playing the field. Perhaps he's right, but keeping up with my love life certainly keeps him on his toes. He's more interested in mine than he is in his own. I suppose I don't really mind if it stops him getting bored." They laughed quietly together and then June stood up and straightened her skirt.

"I've enjoyed our chat, Steve, but now I must get on and check what the other nurses are doing. I need to keep them on their toes too! Think about it and take on board what I've said and you'll do okay."

All the while they'd chatted he'd listened intently to June and realised how much sense she was making and how vital it was to his recovery for him to totally accept that common sense, and it also served to reinforce what Dr Cranmer had told him about not becoming a martyr to the pain.

"That lesson has been well and truly learnt, June, and chalked up to experience. And I'm sorry again for what I said... about the cupboard," he said with a cheeky grin on his face. "Can we blame it on the side-effects... again?"

"Oh, I don't know, Steve, if I was twenty years younger I might have been tempted to take you up on the offer... cupboard and all," she replied with her own cheeky grin.

"And if I was twenty years older, and not so befuddled with drugs, I'd probably not have fluffed the request." He winked broadly at her and they both laughed. He passed her the empty mug. "Thanks for the tea and chat. Do you think I could manage another couple of hours of shut-eye before the ever-cheerful Walt descends on me?" he grinned at her.

They both laughed as June took the mug and moved the table away from the side of the bed, and prepared to leave the room.

"I'll make sure of it. Sleep well." She quietly closed the door and left. Within minutes Steve was asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Just before 9.30 am Steve was taken for an X ray of his knee as requested the evening before by Dr Cranmer. A little later both he and Dr Greenberg came to see him.

"You look better today, Steve. Has the nausea settled?" Dr Cranmer asked while all the time studying Steve's chart and the notations made by the nursing staff.

"Yes, thank you. It's all settled down and I'm feeling much more rested and comfortable. I wanted to apologise for yesterday and..."

Dr Cranmer cut him off quickly. "There's absolutely no need to apologise for that, Steve. It was a perfectly understandable, if extreme, reaction and I think we've all learnt valuable lessons from it and we should move on. Whilst you were out of it last night Dr Greenberg here and myself sorted out a plan for what we feel is going to give you good pain relief with as few side-effects as possible. It's vital that you prepare for your PT exercises in advance by taking a dose of your new meds at least half an hour before your session starts with Rick. That way you should have adequate amounts in your system to allow you to cope. However, having said that, there will not be any physical therapy of any kind on that left leg over the weekend. You are to be totally rested in that respect. I'll speak to Dr Truman myself on Monday when he returns and discuss your case with him then. We should also have the result of the X ray later today. I don't think anything has been missed but it's purely a precaution. Have you any questions?"

Steve had already decided not to say anything to Dr Cranmer about the delay in the start of the session yesterday as he didn't want to cause further trouble for Rick. He still didn't know what caused it but it was something he felt he would mention to Rick privately. "I was just a little worried that Dr Truman might feel his orders may have been countermanded and I don't want anyone to get into any trouble because of me. I already feel guilty that I asked to reduce the morphine and then..."

Again Dr Cranmer cut him off. "Good grief, Steve, will you stop worrying. There's no reason for you to feel like that at all. I thought the plan I'd drawn up for your pain relief was sufficient and that I'd explained it properly to you. I clearly hadn't, or maybe you simply hadn't grasped the importance of taking adequate meds before the treatment began. You've been very unwell and possibly not fully alert, and I think you simply didn't realise how painful the treatment would be. I also feel it started much too soon for you. Now, I think we all understand what needs to happen in future, so stop worrying. I'll explain it all to Dr Truman. He's not a heartless man, Steve. Yes, he's anxious to get your recovery started, but not to the detriment of your health. Every patient is different. No two patients react the same and no two patients require identical medication. To be honest, prescribing can be a bit of a minefield. Now, rest up over the weekend and distract yourself with some visitors. I know Lieutenant Stone is anxious to come in. I had a chat with him on the phone earlier this morning and had a hard time convincing him that you haven't suffered any long-term damage from yesterday's distressing incident."

"Oh dear, that doesn't sound good." Steve grimaced. No doubt Mike would have spent the night worrying himself sick about him, and especially with not being allowed in to visit and, inevitably, that would have made him very short-tempered this morning.

"You can say that again! I'm afraid he was spitting fire and looking for heads to roll. I had some difficult explaining to do, especially about the reduction in the strength of your meds and the need for you to take adequate meds before any future PT sessions, and I think he's calmer now we've sorted things out. He's naturally worried about you but... well... your Lieutenant is a tough man to convince. I have to say I hope I'm never on the wrong side of an interrogation with him, that's for sure. He has an uncanny way of tying you in knots and making you feel guilty even when you know you've done nothing wrong," he laughed somewhat sheepishly.

"I'm sorry about that. It's the police officer inside him coming out. When he gets going he sometimes doesn't know when to stop. I hope he wasn't too angry and blunt. He can be you know, especially where Jeannie, his daughter, or myself are concerned. I know he can come across as stern, and he is in his police work when it's necessary, but with us he's a bit like a mother hen with its chicks wanting to gather them under his wing and protect them. I may be 31 years old but sometimes I feel like I'm still in 3rd Grade. He's never slow to get his feathers ruffled in our defence."

Both Dr Greenberg and Dr Cranmer laughed with Steve at the thought of the Mike they knew as strong and feisty, portrayed by Steve as a mother hen.

"Yes, we had noticed. Anyway, don't worry about it. We had a good chat and we're all good. Now, like I said, take it easy over the weekend and we'll re-assess the situation on Monday. I must be away... onwards and upwards. I have patients to see now on the third floor!" He laughed at his own joke as he made his way to the door. "Bye for now."

Not long after, Steve was brought a cup of weak coffee and a couple of digestive cookies and he was savouring them with a crossword puzzle, when 'mother hen' walked in with a very worried frown on his face. One look at him and Steve could sense that, underneath the obvious concern, trouble was brewing.

"Hey there, Steve, how are you feeling this morning? They finally let me in to see you. I spoke to Dr Cranmer earlier, and now Liz just gave me an update as I was coming in. Sorry, no food this time. I wasn't sure how your stomach would be feeling after last night." He pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down.

Perhaps no-one else would've noticed the slight stiffness in his movements or the subtle undertones in his voice, but Steve knew Mike like the back of his own hand and he could sense the sharpness in his tone and the worry underlying it, and he knew he'd have to tread carefully. "Thanks, Mike. It doesn't matter about the food. I'm on a very bland diet today just taking it easy," he grimaced.

"That's only to be expected, and I suppose your stomach needs time to recover. From what I hear you really went through the mill." Mike looked him over. The kid looked awfully pale and strained and, if anything, the dark circles under his eyes looked even worse than they did a few days ago.

"It wasn't good, but I'm okay so you've no need to worry." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew it was the wrong thing to say as, right on cue, Mike almost exploded.

"No need to worry, huh? No need to worry, he says! What am I supposed to do, huh? You tell me, Steve. I get a call from the hospital to tell me you've freaked out with pain because you hadn't had sufficient pain relief, then you had uncontrollable vomiting to the point where you had to be heavily sedated all night, and now you lie there calmly eating cookies and doing the crossword and you tell me not to worry! Have you any idea what I've been through?"

"Well, I had a fair idea and if I didn't before I do now! Look, Mike, I get that you're upset, I do, but I'm alright, really I am. I had a good night's rest and I woke feeling much better and..."

"Oh, you had a good night's rest, did you? Well I'm glad someone did because I sure as hell didn't!" Mike stood up suddenly and began to pace up and down by the side of the bed. "You had me really worried last night, you know that? Did you know they wouldn't let me in to see you even though I almost came up anyway and demanded to be allowed in? I had to fret and stew all night long worrying about you!" He stopped pacing and glared at Steve. "You and I need to have a talk about this ridiculous idea you've got in your head about lowering the medication just because it makes you feel a bit queasy and... and... light-headed. I need to knock some serious sense into you, young man." Mike's anger belied his fear as he hovered over him.

Steve knew he somehow needed to calm Mike down. "Mike, please sit down so we can talk. Venting like this doesn't get us anywhere." Again he realised it was the wrong thing to say by the angry look on Mike's face.

"Oh, so I'm venting am I? I'll give you venting! I can't leave you alone for five minutes before you get yourself into..."

Steve cut him off. "Look, Mike, I know now what I did in asking for the meds to be reduced was stupid and... ill-considered..."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Yes, I do. And I've been told that, in future, I have to be mindful of taking my meds well in advance of my physical therapy..."

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"Yes, I have. And I've really and truly learnt my lesson and I won't let it happen again..."

"Oh, you won't, won't you?"

Mike was getting more and more angry by the second and Steve realised he was getting nowhere fast, so he decided to change tack in an effort to defuse the situation. "Look I've already had the riot act read to me by June last night and by Dr Cranmer this morning. I don't need it again from you. What can I say? I know you were worried and I'm sorry." He looked up at Mike who was fixing him with that glare... that 'Stone' glare.

"Oh, they've read you the riot act, have they? And no, you haven't had it read by me, Buddy Boy... YET!" Mike was clearly fit to burst, and Steve didn't know what else to do other than shut up and let Mike vent. "You know I've had a sleepless night don't you? And you know I've been worried sick about you? And I told you I was all for coming up to the hospital last night and demanding to see you whether I was allowed in or not didn't I, huh?"

"Mike, calm down will you. You've already said all that. At your age, you'll likely blow a gasket if you keep on at me like that. I'm not a child, Mike, and..."

"Not a child! Not a child! If you were a child I'd know what to do with you. You're so dad-blamed stubborn I could... I could..."

"What, Mike? You could what? Get down on your knees and thank God that I'm still in one piece this morning and alive to tell the tale? Well join the club because I've already done that... or I would've done if I could've done... but... with my leg... I couldn't... like... kneel... so I didn't... I just did it from my bed... like... you know... without the bended knee bit... but I did... do... all the rest of it..." His halting voice tailed off. Mike was clearly not amused and was still glaring that glare, and Steve didn't know what else he could do to ward him off and placate him. "Oh God, Mike. I'm sorry you were so worried. That's the last thing I wanted and," he tried to wheedle a bit, "it's not like I did it intentionally is it? I didn't know that was going to happen."

The Stone glare was still there and Mike had gone ominously silent. Steve tried again. "If it's any consolation I had a wonderful night with the drugs they gave me." He looked at Mike with a sheepish smile. A long silence passed between them that Mike seemed to have no intention of breaking and Steve began to squirm under his glare. He decided to try cajoling Mike. "Mike. Say something... please. If you're mad at me then be mad just don't stand there looking at me like... like a grizzly with toothache."

Nothing.

He decided to try humour. "You do know you're scaring the pants off me... well you would be if I had any on!"

Still nothing.

He tried begging, "Mike, pleeeease! I'm sorry. This is killing me, and you know I'm not well. I'm not up to it, man and I can't take much more of this."

Suddenly, Mike's chest heaved, and he let out a long, exasperated sigh and the glimmer of a smile just began to appear on his face.

Steve knew that at last he'd broken through Mike's stern shell. Yes! I've got him, he thought .

"Damn and blast it, Steve! Have I told you you'll be the death of me one day?"

"Yes, you have... more than once... well, quite a few times actually. I think that mantra is beginning to wear a bit thin." Steve thought he'd better stop whilst there was still a ghost of a smile on Mike's face.

Mike stepped back from the bed, held his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, turned a full circle, picked his hat up off the bed and put it down again and then, facing Steve again, he pulled up the chair and sat down next to the bed. He cast his eyes to the floor for what seemed like eons then cast them up again to look directly at Steve, fixing him with those incredibly blue eyes of his.

"What am I going to do with you, huh? No... don't answer that. I've had enough of your smart-aleck cracks to last me a life-time. Every grey hair on my head has been put there either by you or Jeannie, apart from the ones that Helen put there of course, but she had an excuse. She had no choice!" He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I swing between moments of extreme pride with you and moments of extreme despair. No-one, but no-one, has ever had the power to do that to me till you came along. Sometimes I don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels!"

There was another long silence and Steve could see that Mike's eyes were moist. Then Mike reached out with his hand and slid it behind Steve's neck in the old familiar gesture that told him all was well between them again.

"I'm just glad you're okay, that's all," Mike blustered and at long last he smiled broadly and Steve knew they were back where they should be. "I knew you weren't up to that PT session yesterday and I told Rick so when I met him in the corridor after I left you, and I asked him to postpone it for an hour or two to give you time to get some rest. I should've asked him to postpone it for longer than that. You clearly weren't up to it."

And there it was! The reason why the PT session was delayed! Why the strong but short-acting meds didn't work!

As Steve looked at Mike he could see the emotion building within him and he knew he couldn't say anything. He daren't say anything. Mike would never forgive himself if he found out that his well-intentioned intervention had played a large part in the suffering Steve had consequently suffered. As Mike took a clean white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes and blew his nose, Steve's eyes never left his face. The reality of the situation was not lost on the younger man. His dearest friend had meant well when he spoke to Rick, and Mike had suffered almost as much as he had, just in a different way. His heart almost broke in two. He reached out and placed his hand on top of Mike's hand.

"I'm okay, Mike. I know I'm in this for the long haul and as long as we're okay, you and me, I can face anything they throw at me. I can't bear to see you hurt and upset and know I'm the cause. I had a blip, not a very nice blip I'll grant you, and now I'm over it, and you have my word I'll do my very best not to let that happen again, but I can't promise it won't. I have a fair idea of what's ahead of me, but there are going to be good days and bad days and there's no-one I want alongside me more than you for all of those days. For the good... I hope you'll laugh with me, and for the bad... well... I'll need you and maybe your large white handkerchief to get me through. Okay?"

There was a long silence as Mike struggled with his composure. "Okay. You win! I can't fight with you when you're lying there all trussed up like a... a Thanksgiving turkey," he grinned that funny, scrunched-up grin that melted Steve's heart.

"Me neither, Mike. As for the grey hairs... maybe I should buy you some Grecian 2000," he chuckled.

Mike gently cuffed Steve and, after their laughter subsided, they chatted companionably for some time. At Steve's request Mike updated him on the Sanchez family. Mr Sanchez had undergone some skin-grafting and baby Rosa was off the ventilator. She was still quite unwell but at least she was making good progress towards a full recovery. He also passed on news and well wishes from the guys back at Bryant Street, and then updated Steve on a couple of the cases that they'd recently been working on. After chatting amicably for quite a while Steve asked Mike to pass a message to Bill for him and it wasn't long before he realised he was in hot water yet again.

"Can you tell Bill I'm ready for Mario now. He'll know what you mean."

"Mario? Who's Mario?"

"Mario Moretti, my tailor. He's going to alter some clothes for me, but I need to see him first."

"Clothes, what kind of clothes? This is hardly the time to be thinking of ordering a fancy new jacket, Steve."

"Ha, ha! Very funny. Just some clothes I need." Mike's quizzical expression told him he needed to know more. "Bill bought me some sweat pants and other stuff that I asked him to buy for me and I need to get them altered to go over my frame. Mario kindly agreed to do the work for me. That's all."

"What other stuff?"

"Just sweat pants, pyjamas and... shorts... and... and... underwear. That's all."

"That's all? Bill bought them? You asked Bill to buy them, not me?"

"Well, you've done so much for me this past week. I just thought this was something Bill could do and he offered so..."

"He only offered because you asked him first and he couldn't say no to you! You could've asked me first. I'd have done it for you. I'm hurt that you felt you couldn't ask me. Didn't you trust me or something... huh?"

Steve felt backed into a corner. "No, Mike, it wasn't... like... that. I just... you know... thought Bill wouldn't mind and... it was his day off so he could get them for me... to save you having to do it... and then I thought I could ask you to bring my cheque book in so I could repay him... and... and...well... that's all really."

"And his fashion sense is better than mine, isn't it? Admit it, Buddy Boy. You didn't trust me to buy your fancy clothes because I'm too much of an old fuddy-duddy for you. That's the real truth isn't it? I'm good enough to buy your sandwiches and your newspapers but not your fancy pants!" He stood up and made to leave the room with his head hung low and fedora in hand.

Steve knew he'd upset him... again. "I'm sorry, Mike. It wasn't done to hurt or upset you, really it wasn't," he pleaded with Mike. He didn't want him to walk away hurt and angry like this.

"Well, I am hurt, Steve. Cut to the quick. Hurt beyond measure. After all I've done for you I never would've thought you'd treat me this way." He reached the door and opened it and then, just before he went through it, he turned and looked back at Steve who was lying on the bed with a woebegone expression on his face, and he glowered at him long and hard. Suddenly, his expression changed and he put that big soft grin on his face that only he could do.

"Gotcha, Buddy Boy! See you later." He shot out of the door and Steve could hear his laugh all the way down the corridor.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Steve quietly rested up for the next couple of hours. It was time alone he desperately needed to calm and collect himself after the débâcle of the day before and the dressing down he'd just got from Mike as a result. He looked at the newspapers Mike had brought in, but he just couldn't concentrate as the heated conversation he'd had with him kept coming back to him. He'd known Mike would be vexed with him, but he hadn't expected him to be that mad. But perhaps he should've expected it. Deep down he knew that all that anger and bluster from Mike was simply a mask he'd donned to hide the fear he'd gone through. Mike had just gone through the most awful week he'd ever experienced in their partnership. He'd witnessed his friend dice with death and miraculously survive, and he was just beginning to feel they were on an even keel again when he got that call to say he'd had a set-back and was so unwell that he wasn't allowed any visitors, not even himself. Was it any wonder Mike was upset? After all they'd gone through he had a right to be upset. Steve knew that Mike felt as strongly for him as he did for Mike. As a partner, Mike was better then he could ever have hoped for but, as a father-figure, he was simply the best. The bond that they shared was like nothing he had ever experienced with anyone before, and it meant the world to him. All that angst from Mike this morning, all that anger, was simply a cover up for the intensity of those feelings he knew they shared. Steve couldn't blame him for being mad. If the boot had been on the other foot and Mike had been the one in the hospital bed, he guessed he would've reacted just the same.

Then there was the worry about the reason for his severe reaction to the PT session. Mike was under the impression that it was Steve's own fault for asking for the meds to be reduced and, to a large extent, he was right. He had asked for the morphine to be reduced, but Dr Cranmer had prescribed other meds to be taken just before the PT started. Today, in the aftermath of his collapse, he had vague recollections of yesterday morning. He remembered getting upset and telling Mike he was not looking forward to the session, that he was tired and anxious. Presumably when Rick left his room yesterday morning, he must've mentioned it to Liz that he was coming back shortly to begin his first session because he remembered she'd brought him two tablets to take after Mike left. Steve thought back and was sure he had taken them but he also remembered sleeping after Mike left. His anxiety must've prompted Mike to speak to Rick and ask him for the delay, and it was now clear that that delay caused the tablets to be virtually ineffective. Steve knew he would have to speak to Rick, and to Liz, to ensure Mike never found out. It was better that he took the blame on his own shoulders rather than have Mike find out and then have to live with the guilt. He knew his friend would beat himself up about it and that was the last thing Steve wanted.

His mind recalled how hard he'd had to work to placate Mike and for them to get back on an even footing. Then he recalled his next mistake. Just when he thought Mike had understood his explanation for what had happened, and forgiven him for being a complete and total ass, he had to go and open his big mouth and put his even bigger foot right in it by telling Mike he'd asked Bill to buy him the clothes. Why did he do that? Why did he bring up Bill? He could've asked the nurse to phone Bill's office line direct for him and give him a message? But no, he had to go and tell Mike! Had he got a death wish or something? Oh, Mike had really strung him along well, he'd really had him going, and he'd fallen right into his trap. He chuckled to himself when he recalled Mike's payback, his hasty exit from the room and his booming laugh as he walked along the corridor to the elevator. I suppose I deserved the payback, he thought, and the more he turned the conversation with Mike over in his mind, the more his heart swelled with love for the man. He'd put Mike through hell in the last few days, and still the guy came up smiling. He lay in his hospital bed quietly reflecting on their relationship and how he must be the luckiest guy in the world to be partnered by the great Mike Stone, and the next thing he knew Walt was shaking his arm to wake him and asking him what he wanted for lunch.

"We have quite a passable quiche with salad, or I can offer you vegetable soup and a roll, or I have a variety of sandwiches," he lowered his voice, "but I have to tell you most of them are currently curling their corners up and looking decidedly iffy, so my advice is to give them a miss. So, what's it to be, Stevie-boy? Quiche or soup?"

"What's the quiche?"

"Well it's kind of a pastry tart with a filling."

"I do know what quiche is, Walt. What... kind... of filling?"

"Well, it's er... an eggy... er... custardy, sort of thing with some brown bits in it that I think are bacon that have sort of floated to the top. There's some green bits in it too but... well... those are anybody's guess. What does it matter Stevie-boy, it's food and it's reasonably edible? They serve it in the canteen."

"Walt!"

"It's really not that bad Stevie-boy. I can vouch for it. I've never had food poisoning from it before... er... yet," he chuckled.

"Walt!"

"Mind you," he peered closely at the quiche and sniffed it. "I suppose there's a first time for everything."

"WALT!"

"Yes, Stevie-boy." Finally, he looked at Steve.

"Walt," he took a deep breath to calm himself. "I can stand the ever-cheerful manner at seven o'clock every morning, and I can even cope with the toe-curling, blood curdling jokes day after day, but I swear, if you call me Stevie-boy one more time, you'll not be serving that bowl of soup you'll be wearing it, and I'll not be responsible for where the ladle or the bread roll ends up!" Steve's eyes were veritably popping out of his head as he shouted at Walt.

"Oh come on now, Stevie... oops!... I mean, Steve. Yes... must remember it's Steve... er sorry, Steve. No need to get mad at me. I simply forgot you just like to be called Steve. It's just that I like to be kind of friendly with my..." He saw the look on Steve's face. Wow! If looks could kill he'd drop dead on the spot. "Okay. Okay. Chill out. You'll have your blood pressure up and then the nurses will be mad at me. Anyway, lying there all strung up like that you're in no position to do anything with a bread roll let alone a ladle! The soup you can chuck but the rest of it... no chance!"

"WALT! Believe me, you don't want to try me because the way I'm feeling right now, frame or no frame, I swear I'll knock you into next week! Capiche?"

"Okay! Okay! STEVE! You don't need to shout. I get it! I surrender! I... er... Capiche! Happy now? Jeez! Talk about uptight. Must be the meds. Now… soup or quiche... Steeeeve?"

An hour later and the soup and roll eaten in preference to the indeterminate quiche, Steve was still chuckling to himself at the look on Walt's face. He really shouldn't have let the guy annoy him like that, but honestly... Stevie-boy? Was the guy for real or what?

He picked up his crossword and put it down again in favour of the newspaper and began to read about what was going on in the world outside of the four walls in which he was currently incarcerated. For once the news held no interest for him. He was bored. He looked at the door and willed it to open. That door was like a portal to another world, a world he was currently playing no part in. On the other side of it people were going about their daily business, working, shopping, doing the school runs, walking their dogs, and he had no part in any of it. Even the criminals on the streets had their freedom while he was holed up here in this room for God knew how long, and he was already getting heartily fed up of the confinement. He began to lay bets with himself as to who might be the next person to walk in. Mike had already been once today, so it was unlikely to be him... or maybe he'd come again later. He wished Bill would come and bring him some of the clothes he'd bought. Or maybe Mario Moretti would come to discuss the alterations Steve hoped he could carry out for him on the sweat pants and pyjamas. He thought about who he least wanted to come through the door, other than Walt of course, and top of the list was Rick. He didn't think he could face him today after making such a fool of himself yesterday. He knew he could do nothing to stop the exercises looming in the near future, but he had at least one more day of grace to rest up courtesy of Dr Cranmer. He remembered again what Rick had said about at least keeping the right leg mobile, so he thought he might as well do a few basic bends and stretches as he'd been taught. He threw back the covers.

His right leg was up in the air and bent at the knee when the door opened and Roy Devitt walked in. Steve hurriedly lowered his leg and pulled the hospital gown back into position to cover his modesty, and then drew the sheet over his leg and up over his lower body. He was mortified to be caught out like that, and especially by Roy.

"Oh sorry, Steve, am I interrupting something?" Roy asked with a quizzical look on his face.

"No, not at all, Roy. Please come in and sit down. You just caught me doing my exercises. I have to keep my right leg mobile, though I can't do anything yet with the left. It's good of you to come. How are things back at the station?"

"Everything's fine there, no need to worry. What's more important is how you are. I hear you had a bad run of things yesterday. Mike rang me late last night. He was pretty uptight that he wasn't allowed in to see you but, by the look of you, you've improved overnight."

"It was just a blip, Roy. They're bound to happen occasionally. Some days are better than others. It's like everything else life throws at you. You win some and you lose some. Yesterday I lost. Today I'm on a winning streak... hopefully," he smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry Mike was worried by it all, but he's been in this morning, had a go at me and we're all sorted and back on track again." And at the memory of the morning's altercation with Mike, he laughed.

Roy smiled back at him as his eyes roved over him. "Well that's good to hear. Anyway, you're looking better than I expected. If you don't mind, I'll keep my eyes averted from the frame. It's… well... not for the faint-hearted is it?" He looked rather uncomfortable.

"No, it sure isn't, but I'm getting used to it. I've been taught to do my own pin site hygiene though I got let off this morning. I told them my stomach was still rather fragile after yesterday, but it's only a temporary reprieve. I have to do it myself tonight and twice a day every day." He pulled a face. "It's not pleasant but I just have to bite the bullet and get on with it I suppose. No sense bemoaning my lot. I've no doubt there could be worse in store," he laughed.

"Let's hope not. I think you've gone through enough already. I'll get down to the business end of why I've come in shall I?" He continued. "I've spoken to the personnel department and you'll be pleased to hear that, since you were on duty at the time this all happened, though you weren't exactly involved in solving a crime, you were protecting and saving human life, so it will be classed as a work-related incident. That means you'll receive full pay for the duration. They've also been in touch with the insurance company covering all SFPD officers and you will be in line to receive compensation for the injuries you sustained, and they've agreed to cover all your medical bills until you're signed back to work again as fully fit to resume your normal duties, and beyond if there's an issue with continuing care. I take it that will resolve a few problems you may have been worrying about regarding loss of earnings, Steve."

"Well, I must admit I have been thinking about it a little, but I couldn't let myself get too stewed up about it as, to be honest, Roy, today is the first day since I came in here that I've really felt half human again. I was living in a bit of a fog before, but the doctor has changed my meds and my head is a lot clearer and my pain is more manageable today, so my mind has been wandering to more mundane matters. That's really great news. It was just what I needed to hear."

"There's also some other news and, knowing you like I do, I'm not sure how you'll take it. We, that's to say, myself and Rudy, have put a recommendation in to the Chief of Police for a commendation for you and it's currently under consideration and we should hear back sometime in the..."

Steve ran both hands back through his hair and interrupted him. "Oh man! I don't want this, Roy. I was just doing my job. Did Mike put you up to this?" Steve sounded annoyed.

"Well, it was a joint decision between Rudy and myself and you deserve this, Steve." Roy knew this wasn't going down well.

"I asked if Mike put you up to this?" Roy just looked sheepish and Steve knew he was right. "He did, didn't he? Damn him, he always has to meddle."

"Look, Steve, after what you did we all felt your heroism had to be recognised... Mike included."

"Heroism! I don't know about that. I don't think there was much heroism involved. It was probably the most stupidly impulsive thing I've ever done in my life. I acted without thinking it through properly and this," he pointed to his leg, "is the result. Perhaps if I'd stopped to think before I acted I wouldn't be lying here with this contraption screwed into my leg. I don't deserve a commendation, Roy."

"Now you listen to me, Steve. Firstly, ask yourself why you acted impulsively, and the answer is because it all happened so fast you didn't have time to analyse the risk and think it out. Typical you, you just raced right in to that house with no thought for your own safety. Secondly, as I understand it, that fire took hold so fast that, had you taken the time to consider the risk and not gone through that front door, you'd never have got Mr Sanchez out. Thirdly, having got him out you then disregarded Mike's pleas to get yourself out of that house and you went on up two further floors till you found that baby and saved her life. You may prefer to look at it that your leg is the result of your actions, but we know better than that and so do you! The fact is that two people are alive today who wouldn't otherwise have been if it hadn't been for your swift and selfless actions, and that's the real result and you should be proud of that fact. I know we are. Unfortunately, you have to suffer the very unpleasant consequences of your actions that night but, faced with the same decision, you'd do the same thing again. You know it and I know it. We all know it. It's who you are!" Roy knew he had to get Steve to accept the overwhelming significance of what he did on Monday night.

"But, Roy, I wasn't the only one who went in there. Mike followed me in. He got Mr Sanchez out. If anyone deserves a commendation he does. He didn't have to follow me in."

"And he'll get it, never you fear, but this is about you. Look, Steve, deny it as much as you like, but you know as well as I do that you saved those people. That heroism is going to be recognised officially by the SFPD whether you want it to be or not. You should also remember that any such commendation can only serve to help your career and advancement in the department." Roy looked at Steve and realised just how proud he was to have such a wonderful young man serving under him. He was destined for higher things and he had no doubt that one day he'd achieve them. For now, just getting him to accept a simple commendation was hard enough. "Accept it, Steve... please. You earned it and you deserve it and, as I said before, I know you well enough by now to know that if you were faced with the same circumstances again you'd act in exactly the same way." He looked long and hard at Steve willing him to capitulate, and eventually Steve gave a tired smile.

"Okay, Roy, you win. I'm too tired to argue. This is one battle too many for me to fight today. Thank you."

"That's the ticket. Good man. Now I must be off, and you look like you could do with some rest. I'm glad to see you're improving. I'll pop in again in a few days. Look after yourself, you hear, keep up the exercises, and leave those nurses alone!" He grinned at Steve and shook his hand. Then he turned towards the door and, with a lift of his hand in salute, he left the room.

Steve lay back and thought over what Roy had said and knew he was right. In the fog of the preceding days, he vaguely remembered saying the same thing himself to Mike about doing it all again if he had to. Thinking sensibly too, a commendation on his file could only be a good thing and help his career. He looked ruefully at his leg. The sooner he could get his leg healed the better but, realistically, he knew it was going to take a long time. In the meantime, he had exercises to do and he'd better not scare off his visitors. In future he'd protect his modesty by keeping the sheet loosely over the bed whilst he did them. He laughed when he recalled the look on Roy's face when he walked into the room. For himself, he was just glad it wasn't one of the nurses who'd caught him out. Heaven forbid, it could have been Jeannie! It didn't bear thinking about. He chuckled to himself as he lay back and rested.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed quietly. A candy striper came by with a library trolley, so he chose a couple of books, but no-one else came through his door except the nurses and Walt. Not Bill, not Mario, not Rick, and not Mike. Perhaps he'd see them tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. It was mid-October and the weather was holding up well. It looked set to be a lovely day... at least what Steve could see of it looking from his bed across to the window. He had no chance of seeing the 'lovely view of the gardens' that Dr Cranmer spoke about. It was just another portal to the world from which he was excluded.

After a comfortable night, his morning ablutions went well. Walt only slipped up twice with Steve's name which was a definite improvement on previous days, and he swiftly corrected himself at a stern look from Steve. After breakfast, the nurses and Walt undertook the complicated task of changing his bed sheets. The last of the drips had been taken down the day before, so he felt much less restricted and it made the job a whole lot easier. He held himself tightly in check as usual as the sling round his leg was raised and later lowered, but today they accomplished their well-rehearsed routine with minimal discomfort caused to him and he realised he must be settling into his new medication regime.

After that, he carried out his pin site hygiene and felt rather pleased with himself that it went so well. Last night was good but this morning was even better as he got used to looking after the area himself. The bruises on his leg were just beginning to change from deep purple to dark pink with a definite greenish hue to them, but they no longer fazed him. Once that was done he lay back and opened his book and settled to read.

Before long there was a knock at the door and Bill came in and they spent a companionable hour with each other. The items he'd bought were taken out of their bags and displayed across the bed for Steve's perusal and approval.

"They're great, Bill, and exactly what I wanted. Thanks so much for doing that for me. I'll reimburse you as soon as Mike brings my cheque book in. I thought he'd come last night, but I didn't see him."

"There's no rush about the money, and none of us were allowed to come yesterday. Mike said you were under strict orders to rest up after Friday, so Saturday was off-limits, but he thought by Sunday you'd be tearing your hair out with boredom," he laughed as Steve raised his eyes heavenwards.

"That man is too smart for his own good. I can do nothing but rest at the moment and it's beginning to pall but, at the same time, I'm dreading tomorrow because I'm pretty sure my doctor and my therapist will want to get the treatment started. My pain relief is working much better though, so perhaps I'll survive this time without making a complete spectacle of myself," he smiled ruefully.

"Let's hope so. You don't want to go through that again. It still looks pretty bad though. That bruising is gross, and the scar too. I've never seen anything like it in my life before. It's... er... pretty dramatic." He saw Steve's smile drop from his face. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It was totally insensitive." As he stumbled over his apology, he could've kicked himself.

"Hey, no need for any apology. It's what I think myself whenever I look at it. I keep telling myself I really messed up well this time. Listen, Bill, we're friends and friends shouldn't have to creep round each other. I'd much prefer we all say what we feel and get it out in the open. Let's be honest. It's a bloody mess... literally." And they laughed together.

"I won't argue with that," Bill chuckled.

"Roy came in briefly yesterday afternoon. He clearly hadn't heard what you just told me about Mike's self-imposed 'off-limits to visitors' rule, but it was fine. He didn't stay long. He caught me doing my right-leg exercises. There was me with my leg stuck up in the air waving it up and down, modesty all to pot, when he just waltzed in the room. I don't know who was more embarrassed... him or me!" They both fell into paroxysms of laughter at the thought of Roy being party to Steve's eye-catching exercises.

As they eventually settled down, Steve thought it prudent not to mention the reason for Roy's visit and the news of the request he and Rudy had put in for a commendation. For one thing, at this stage it was only a request, and for another, it might never happen. Steve was still unsure how he felt about it but there was nothing he could do about it. If it was going to happen it would happen. He clearly had no say in the matter.

Bill was wiping his eyes from the laughter. "Oh, before I forget, Mario said he'd call in sometime today to see you about the alterations."

"That's great. Hey, you're pretty good at this, you know. I'll have to employ you as my personal secretary."

Bill laughed, "I'm not sure my dictation skills would be up to scratch and I doubt Mike would approve. I'd better be off. I'll probably see you later in the week. Norm and Dan have promised to pop in, and Lee too, so that should help with the boredom."

"Great, tell them I'll look forward to seeing them. Just remind Norm I'm a sick man and not up to his ribbing will you."

"You think that'll stop him?" Bill chuckled.

Steve laughed, "Probably not. Thanks for coming, Bill, and thanks again for the clothes."

"Glad to be of service. Bye for now," and he left with a last glance back and a wave.

Within half an hour Mario Moretti was guided to the room by Pat, who was on duty in place of Liz who was on a day off.

"Visitor for you, Steve," she announced as she showed the dapper little man in.

"Hi, Mario, thanks so much for coming."

"My pleasure, Steve. Anything for a valued customer like you. Your colleague told me you want some clothes altered." He took in the sight of Steve and the injuries that were all too apparent. He shook his head and tutted several times. "I'm so sorry to see you like this, Steve. My heart bleeds for you."

Steve grimaced but tried to reassure Mario. "That's alright. Don't upset yourself please. It looks worse than it is. I'll be good as new in a few months... so they tell me."

Mario just nodded his head in response. For the next half-hour Steve showed Mario the clothes that Bill had bought him and explained what he needed done to them. Mario took the necessary measurements and jotted them down on a pad, made a couple of suggestions that he thought would help, and then he packed up the bag containing the clothes, tucked them under his arm and got ready to leave. "I'll get onto this straight away in the morning and hopefully I'll get them back to you on Tuesday."

"That would be great. Thanks a lot. Just bring me your invoice and I'll settle up with you."

"Steve, I read about what you did for that family in the papers and it was on the radio too. For such a valued customer, please allow me to alter these garments as a gift."

"Mario, I can't allow you to do that. You must let me pay you for the work that you do." Steve was humbled that his friend and tailor of several years wanted to do this for him, but he couldn't let him work for nothing. "No, Mario, really, I insist on paying for..."

Mario raised his hand in the air and cut him off. "Steve, that family in that house could have been my family in my house. It's comforting to know there are still people like you who will put their lives at risk to save others. All the tailors and seamstresses who work for me are so proud to be able to say they know you so, please, let me do this one small thing for you. What's a few zippers and a reel of cotton, eh?"

Steve was really touched by Mario's gesture. "Well... thank you. I'll accept and I'm very grateful, but it's really not necessary. I only did what anyone else would have done."

"Oh, I don't think so. It takes a special person to do what you did. Now, you get well soon you hear me. I have a bolt of cloth with your name on it that came into my shop last week and it would make a perfect jacket for you when you're up and about again. I must be off. My wife is hosting a family luncheon today. Eight courses... I ask you!" he laughed. "I'm under strict orders not to be late or I'll be lucky to get just one. Bye, Steve and I hope you'll be up and about again soon." They shook hands and he left, and Steve was left to ponder the generosity and kindness of the people around him, even those on the periphery of his life.

He picked over a rather indifferent lunch of fish pie, carrots and green beans, and pushed the plate away from him. He wished Mike would come with a goody bag from Mama's or from some other of their favourite coffee shops, but Mike didn't appear. Instead, for the next two hours he read a few chapters of a very weak crime thriller that he'd selected off the library cart the night before. He could pick holes in the plot from a hundred yards away and he'd solved the 'whodunit' before he'd reached the end of Chapter 4.

"For goodness sake, I could write a better novel myself," he spoke out loud. He put the book down on the bed at the side of him and then tried to move his position very gingerly to ease his lower back and numb backside, and the book fell to the floor. "Oh, that's just great that is," he spoke with exasperation as he looked over the side of the bed to see it lying on the floor. He was so sick of this immobility. "How the hell am I supposed to reach that now? I suppose I'll have to ring for a nurse."

Suddenly a familiar voice spoke out and he jumped with shock.

"You rang?" There was a loud chuckle. "Will I do instead?" Steve looked up startled to see Mike bending to pick the book up.

"Jeez, Mike, you made me jump. I didn't hear you come in."

"I'm not surprised, you were so busy talking to yourself. That's the first sign of madness you know... talking to yourself. The second sign... hearing an answer back. If that happens you really can't blame it on the meds this time you know. They'll probably lock you up and throw away the key," and he laughed his big booming laugh.

"Ha ha! Very funny. You really are a joker, aren't you?"

"I try, Buddy Boy, I try."

"Yeah, that's the problem, Mike. You're very trying," and he sniggered at the pretended hurt look on Mike's face.

"Oh, that's nice, isn't it? I come here on my day off to bring succour and sustenance to the weak and feeble and all I get is insults. Have you had lunch?"

"Yeah...well...sort of. They brought it round a couple of hours ago and it was awful. Disgusting fish pie... UGH!... carrots that had been boiled almost to mush and peas that were so hard if they were bigger you could have used them as balls down the bowling alley. Please tell me you've brought me some food. I've eaten nothing remotely edible since that roast pork sandwich on Friday and that didn't stay down long enough to count."

"Well, I thought your stomach might still be a little delicate so I bought a cream cheese and watercress sandwich with a bowl of cold rice pudding to follow." He held up the bag and smiled.

"Mike, you didn't? Please tell me you didn't? I'm starving here man!" He took the bag from Mike and peered inside. There was a cellophane bag with a large smoked salmon, cucumber and mayonnaise baguette and a bowl of fresh Caesar salad. In another bag that Mike proffered there was a box with a large slice of lemon meringue pie with a small sealed pot of fresh cream to pour over it. There was also a bag of cheese and onion chips, a packet of chocolate digestive cookies, a packet of cheese cookies and four small bottles of Coca-Cola. It was manna from heaven to Steve. "You beauty, Mike. I could kiss you!"

"Steady on there, Steve. I don't mind if you drool all over the food, just don't drool all over me," he chuckled. "Have you still got that fork I brought in the other day."

"I think Walt put it in the bathroom on the shelf. I could do with a spoon for the pie though."

With an exaggerated flourish, Mike fished a dessert-spoon out of his top pocket and put it on the bed-table alongside the pie. "Voilà! You mean this spoon?"

"Keep going at this rate and I'll have a whole canteen of cutlery," Steve quipped. "If I had a knife I could cut a pizza," he grinned cheekily at Mike.

"Is that a hint, Buddy Boy?" And, at a smiling nod from Steve, he laughed. "I'll have to see what I can do for you tomorrow night."

"Don't forget... no anchovies..."

Mike cut him off with a twinkle in his eye. "I know, I know. You don't have to keep reminding me."

Steve took the baguette from the bag, looked at it turning it from side to side, sniffed it and smiled. "This is just great, Mike. I'm starving."

"Hey, wait a minute, I thought you said you already ate lunch," he asked.

"No, I told you what lunch was. I didn't say I ate any of it." He tore a large bite off the baguette and cast his eyes heavenwards. "Delicious!" and proceeded to eat hungrily. He spoke with his mouth full, "You talk while I eat. Tell me everything I'm missing. I'm bored out of my brain in here."

And that's how they passed the next two hours, Steve chewing his food and Mike chewing over the week he'd just had. There was hardly a break in the conversation which flowed naturally between them and Steve began to feel like he belonged in the world again. All it took was for Mike to open that portal between his own world and Steve's hospital room for Steve to slide back happily, just for a short while, into a world he missed so much and was desperate to return to.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Steve had been dreading the dawn of Monday morning. He knew Dr Truman would be back from his weekend away and he guessed Rick would be in to start his exercises too. He also knew it was the day his stitches were due out. His stomach churned a little, but it was just another trial in a long line of trials that had to be faced.

The usual early morning routine took place and Walt was there to help him with his wash and brush-up and then his bed was changed again with the help of one of the nurse-aides before he was served his breakfast. The only difference this morning was that, after Walt had helped him to wash, Steve asked him to take a paper bag from his locker. He then opened the bag, took out a pair of his new trunks that Bill had bought him and showed them to Walt.

"Oo-ee! Stevie... eeeve," he corrected himself quickly. "These are some swish trunks." He held them up against himself. "Wish I had some like this. You're not trying to impress the ladies with these are you? With that leg? They're a bit of a waste on you don't you think?"

"Quit with the wisecracks and just get them on me, will you."

"Okay, Mr Grumpy. Come on, let's get you in them." They stretched and slipped on easily over the metal frame and, for the first time since he came into hospital, Steve felt marginally less exposed.

"Hmm! Nice fit, Steve. Nice and... snug." Walt raised his eyebrows and grinned as Steve quickly covered himself with the hospital gown.

"Walt, I told you to cut out the wisecracks. By tomorrow I should have some pyjamas that are being altered for me, so I can get out of these hospital gowns too. Once I'm out of bed and on crutches I'll be able to wear sweat pants that are being altered for me as well. Perhaps I'll feel more like a person again and less like a patient."

Walt cleared everything away and stashed the rest of the trunks in Steve's locker and, ten minutes later, a tray was brought in and placed on his table alongside the bed. It contained all he needed to carry out the pin site hygiene. Steve sighed but knuckled down to the task in hand. Strangely it felt good to be doing something, anything, for himself for a change, and with meticulous care he carried out the procedure just as he'd been taught. When he'd done this the night before one of the sites had looked a bit red and puffy. This morning it was still the same and a little sore too, so he pressed the bell to summon a nurse and showed her the problem.

"I'll have to fetch Liz. She's more senior than me," she said and disappeared out of the door and he continued with the rest of the cleaning while he waited for Liz to come. As she came into his room he looked up from what he was doing and smiled at her.

"Hey, Steve, I hear you've got a problem."

"Just a small one. Can you have a look at this pin site for me please? I'm a little concerned." He pointed to the site at the bottom of the frame and she took a good look at it and picked up a clean cotton swab stick herself and gently pressed around the area.

"Good, there's no sign of any discharge. Well spotted, Steve. That's exactly what we've told you to look out for. I'll fetch you some antibiotic cream that the doctor has written up for just such an eventuality."

"It's not penicillin based. Is it? I'm seriously allergic to penicillin."

"No, it's not. You're right to point it out, of course, but your case file has a big red sticker on the front to flag up your allergy. That shouldn't ever happen, but a gentle reminder to us never hurts." She slipped out of the room and returned within a couple of minutes and removed a tube from a box, broke the seal on the tube and handed it to Steve. "Just apply a little with a clean cotton swab and work it well in around the site and down the sides of the rod into the skin as far as you can comfortably go. Never put the used cotton bud back to the mouth of the tube or onto another pin site. Got it?" She eased away from leaning over his leg as she watched Steve carry out her instructions. "That's great. Do that every time you clean for the next few days and let me know if any other sites become infected. You're really getting the hang of this. I'm proud of you. Some patients really struggle with pin site care, but you've taken to it like a duck to water," she smiled broadly at him.

"I suppose it's a case of having to. It's not that bad really now I'm used to it, and now the new meds have eased my nausea. When you work in homicide you get to see some really gruesome scenes. I had to develop a thick skin and a strong stomach very early on if I was to survive in this life as a cop, and particularly as a homicide cop. Besides, after lying here day after day confined to this bed having someone do pretty well everything for me, it's nice to have something I have control over for a change."

"Yes, I suppose it is. I think the cream will do the trick and I don't think you'll need oral antibiotics, but just ask a nurse to look at it and assess it at every hygiene session until it clears up, and when Dr Truman comes round later today he'll take a look at it for you. I'm hoping he'll also give his permission for the stitches to come out of your thigh. Now you're feeling better in yourself I know the boredom is setting in big time, but once these exercises start and they're happy you can weight-bear on one leg, I don't think it'll be too long before they start to get you out of bed and onto crutches, and a whole new world will open up for you. Now, you finish that cleaning and let me know when you're done because your other stitches are coming out next. I have to call Dr Carr to come down and see you because he wants to check the wound and remove the stitches on your cheek himself but, personally, I don't see a problem with it. It looks lovely and clean and, in a few weeks, you'll hardly notice it at all." And with another smile she left the room.

When Steve had finished he pressed his call button and Liz returned and the paraphernalia of the pin site hygiene was taken away to be replaced by yet another tray of paraphernalia for the removal of his stitches from both arms and his chest wall. The wounds were dry, clean and had united well. Just as Liz had almost finished removing the stitches a bespectacled doctor walked in and introduced himself as Dr Carr and shook hands with Steve.

"You won't remember me, but I'm the plastic surgeon who sutured your face in theatre. You were totally out of it of course and there's been no need for me to return till today as the nurse here would have let me know if there had been a problem." All the while he was speaking he was examining the wounds on Steve's arms and chest. "Those all look very good, Nurse. I think you can leave them uncovered now and let the air get to them." He looked at Steve over the top of his glasses. "Just be careful you don't knock them for a while longer. I'll have a look at his cheek now if you'll remove the dressing for me please, Nurse."

While Liz removed the dressing, Dr Carr popped into Steve's bathroom and washed his hands then returned and donned a pair of latex gloves. The dressing was taken off and he peered at the wound. "Oh, that's excellent. I did a lovely job there even if I do say so myself," he grinned at Steve.

"Nothing like a bit of self-praise is there?" Steve asked.

"Well, sometimes I find if I don't praise myself no-one else will," he chuckled. "Nurse, the stitch-cutter please." He held out his hand for Liz to pass it to him. Steve couldn't see what he was doing but he could very faintly feel the stitch being cut top and bottom. "This shouldn't hurt, Steve but you will feel a slight pulling sensation." And he pulled one end of the continuous suture until the whole of it was out. Steve was amazed that he felt almost nothing except a faint tickling sensation as the suture came out.

Dr Carr checked the wound. "Oh yes, very nice. Have you got a mirror, Nurse?" Steve pointed to his locker. "There's one in my wash bag." Liz passed the bag to him. He took the mirror out and looked at his scarred face.

"Wow! That is good. I can't thank you enough. I was thinking I might have to go round in a mask like the Phantom of the Opera but, honestly, I couldn't be more pleased with it. You've done a wonderful job and are very deserving of praise, Dr Carr."

"You're most welcome, Steve. Give it a few weeks and it'll fade to almost nothing. In a few years it'll blend in with your natural ageing wrinkles and you'll hardly notice it all." Dr Carr and Liz couldn't help but laugh at the look on Steve's face. "Leave the dressing off now, Nurse. It'll heal better for the fresh air. Well I must be off. Look after yourself, Steve."

After he'd gone Steve looked at Liz. "It's fantastic isn't it? I was a bit apprehensive, but he's done a really good job hasn't he?"

"Yes, he has. He's an excellent plastic surgeon. That's four lots of sutures out. Just one more lot to go. I think we've saved the best till last," she laughed.

"Don't you mean the worst?" Steve pulled a pained face.

"Oh, I don't know, Steve. For the most part any leg scarring will be hidden under your pants. You can't break your leg like that and not have scarring."

"I didn't mean the scarring, I meant the discomfort. I'm not relishing those coming out," he winced and pointed to his thigh.

"You'll be fine, don't worry. I'll be gentle with you. Just rest up a bit. I don't think Dr Truman will be long, and don't keep looking in the mirror. Your devastatingly good looks might shatter it!"

"Ha ha! I wish, but I have to say I'm hopeful it may create a frisson of interest with the ladies. I could tell them the heroic tale of my bold and daring-do in saving life and limb and they'll see my scar and realise how I suffered dreadfully as a result of my actions. Hmm... yes, I could charm the ladies for weeks with this scar." He had a wicked, lascivious grin on his face as he pretended to slaver at the thoughts he was conjuring up.

"Oh, I think you'll find that scar will eventually fade to almost nothing, Steve. Now the one on your leg, that'll be far more impressive for the ladies and that's not going to almost disappear so well as the one on your face."

"Ah... but I'll reserve that one just for my up close and personal ladies, Liz. With that one I really will make an impression," he leered.

"Somehow I don't think you'll ever need a scar to make an impression on the female population of San Francisco... or anywhere else for that matter. You have charm in bucket-loads... and don't you know it." They both laughed uproariously at her parting shot and she was still chuckling as she went about her other duties.

She liked Steve Keller. He was a great guy to have under her care. It didn't matter what had been thrown at him in the past week, he'd still bounced back. On an orthopaedic ward like this, patients were often here for a very long stay and some let themselves get depressed and bemoaned their lot, but Steve had gone through hell and still managed to put a brave face on everything. She'd had no problems with him except his extreme embarrassment at having to cope with female nurses providing personal care for him, but even that he'd knuckled under and accepted. And he was an absolute gentleman too. He might joke and fool around, but he never made any of the nurses feel uncomfortable like some of the male patients could do at times. She'd seen the other scars on his body, and she'd seen his hospital notes that told her most had been incurred as the result of the dangers of his job, and she knew this young man faced the risk of unknown perils every day. She'd also sensed he loved his job with a passion, and she'd been touched by the depth of his relationship with his partner, and she knew without a doubt that this particular young man would come up smelling of roses whatever life threw at him.

Her beloved mother had died a few years ago and Liz recalled with fondness how her mother would often use an expression when she spoke of her daughter. She'd say, "The day God made you He broke the mould". She used to joke with her mother and ask, "Was that because he'd made such a mess making me he didn't want to risk another failure, or was it because he'd achieved as near perfection as he could get and knew he couldn't do better?" Her mother used to laugh and say, "You know very well which one I mean." Well, she knew she could use that expression of Steve Keller too and she knew which explanation fitted him best. She wasn't overly religious, but she did have a belief in God, and she couldn't help but feel that 'he would fill his place in God's perfect design'. Oh, for goodness sake, she really must stop dredging up her mother's old sayings and get on with her work.

A little before noon Dr Truman stepped out of the elevator accompanied by his resident and walked towards the nurses' station. "Good morning, Nurse Kendrick. I'm here to see Inspector Keller."

"Good morning, Dr Truman," and she turned to the other man with him, "Good morning, Dr Greenberg. Of course, Doctor, he's been waiting in nervous anticipation of your visit."

"Hmm! Nervous anticipation of what? When have I ever made anyone nervous. Hmm?"

"He's alright, he's just a little nervous that you'll be dismayed at him for reacting so badly to the start of his exercises on Friday. Have you spoken to Dr Cranmer today?"

"Yes, I've been fully informed of the events on Friday by both Dr Cranmer and Rick Garcia. Rick was supposed to join us here this morning. Where is he? Have you seen or heard from him?"

"He rang to apologise and said he'd been delayed but he'll be here in a few minutes."

"Well, let's hope so. I'm a busy man and I don't intend to wait on him. Well, come on then, let the fox see the rabbit." And he walked quickly towards Steve's room with Liz and Sam Greenberg in tow. Liz's heart sank. He wasn't in a good mood and she was full of concern that this might not go well. Foxes eat rabbits she thought as she followed him.

"Good morning, Inspector Keller. I understand you caused a lot of trouble here after I left on Friday and had everyone running around in panic like headless chickens," he looked unsmilingly at Steve. "What have you got to say for yourself young man, eh?"

Steve had been dreading this encounter and had expected Dr Truman to be sharp, but the man really did have an appalling bedside manner. He'd promised himself he would keep his cool and not rise to the man's brusque manner, but Dr Truman had picked the wrong patient if he thought he was going to let him get away with that initial tactless and, downright hurtful, greeting, so he deliberately ignored his barbed question and countered with one of his own that was dripping with veiled irony. "And a pleasant good morning to you too, Dr Truman. I'm feeling a lot better today... thank you for asking! Did you enjoy your anniversary weekend away with your lovely wife?"

Dr Truman clearly hadn't expected that retort. "What? Oh yes...er...thank you. How do you know about that, and how do you know she's lovely... eh?"

"Oh, a little bird told me... while I was racked with pain and my head was deep in a sick bowl on Friday! And, as for your wife being lovely... having met you, I wouldn't expect your wife to be anything other than a veritable saint."

There was a very long, silent pause during which you could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife, as Dr Truman stared at Steve and then across at Liz and Sam, who remained expressionless and wished they were anywhere but in this room at this moment. Eventually, Dr Truman spoke. "You know, young man, you're enough to try the patience of a saint and a saint is something I most definitely am not! Now, I'm prepared to allow you some leeway, and I'll even take mention of my wife as flattery, but I'm not prepared to accept your comments if you're being sarcastic." He fixed Steve with a steely stare but he was about to find out he'd met his match in the bedside manner stakes.

"Oh, I can assure you it's all flattery. I don't know you well enough for sarcasm. That generally takes me a while longer." And he stared back at this man who hovered over him, glowering.

Everyone in the room held their breath waiting for a reaction from Dr Truman. He hung his head low for a few seconds then raised it and looked up at the ceiling rubbing his hand across his jaw, then he pierced Steve with a fiery glare.

"Inspector Keller. Nurse Kendrick here told me that you were rather nervous of my visit. If this is your nerves talking, I'll make an allowance for you. On the other hand, if it's not, then you should know I'm not used to having my buttons pushed, so I'd tread very carefully if I were you."

"Oh, I totally understand. It probably is nerves because I hate having my buttons pushed too." And he smiled so sweetly at Dr Truman that Liz didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

At that moment the door was pushed open and Rick walked in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Dr Truman," he apologised profusely, whilst nodding in acknowledgement to the others at the same time. "My last patient fell out of his bed and banged his head, so I had to whisk him down to the emergency department."

"Looks like you've been saved by Rick again, Inspector!" Dr Truman turned to Rick. "Rick, this patient is in imminent danger of falling or, if he keeps annoying me, being shoved out of his bed too, so you'd better be prepared for another visit to the emergency department."

"What? Er... sorry, have I missed something?" Rick asked quizzically and innocently.

They knew Dr Truman wasn't being serious. Of course he would never shove a patient out of his bed, but it was so rare to ever hear him joke that they held their breath again and then, to everyone's intense surprise, Dr Truman started to laugh.

"Oh dear lord. I've never known anyone like you before, Steve. You have the uncanny ability to get under my skin and rub me up the wrong way and, quite surprisingly I have to admit, to a certain extent it's refreshing. God knows why but I can't help but like you... but... and it's a big but, you're in danger of pushing my buttons once too often. Do you understand?"

"Oh totally… sir! You'll have no more button pushing from me."

"Good, I'm very pleased to hear that!"

"Unless, of course, you push mine first!" And Steve, somehow, kept a very straight face.

There was another very long silence whilst one smiled and the other glowered but the face-off was finally over as Dr Truman was the first to look away.

"Oh... saints preserve us! I give up! Let's get on." And he began to bark rapid questions that everyone in the room knew needed instant, no nonsense, replies.

"How's your pain now?"

"Much better, thank you, on the new pain management regime."

"And pin site care, are you carrying that out for yourself?"

"Yes, sir, twice a day, every day."

"Right leg exercising... are you doing that as instructed?"

"Yes, sir, at least four or five times a day, and just generally moving it about as well even when I'm just resting."

"Very good. Nurse Kendrick, any concerns?"

"Just one Doctor. One of the pin sites has become infected, but I gave Steve the antibiotic cream that had been prescribed for him in case that happened and, hopefully, it'll look much better soon. Otherwise I'm extremely happy with the way he's adapted to his pin site hygiene. He's very meticulous with the procedure."

"Very good. Rick, left leg exercises. When do you intend to start?"

"Well, the X ray result from Saturday was fine, as you know, and Steve is settled on much more suitable pain medication now and is fully aware of the need for adequate meds in advance of our sessions, so we'll begin as soon as you give the okay, sir."

"Right, I'm happy with all that. Let's have a look at that leg of yours now, Steve." He walked into the bathroom, washed his hands and donned a pair of gloves and then bent low over his leg. He touched the rods on the frame and tested them for free movement. They were all solid. Next, he took a cotton swab from a kidney dish proffered by Liz and gently poked and prodded the infected pin site. Steve winced a little and drew a sharp breath in.

"Does that hurt, Steve?"

"No sir, well... not unbearably. It's a little tender."

"Well, there's no discharge and all the other sites are healthy, so just carry on using the cream for a total of seven days and keep an eye on it." He looked at Liz. "Let me know if it deteriorates, otherwise I don't think any oral antibiotics are needed."

"Yes sir," Liz replied.

"That scar looks to be very healthy and well knitted together. I'm very pleased with that but I think we'll have alternate sutures out today, Nurse, and the rest on Wednesday."

"Yes, sir. I'll see to that."

All the while Sam Greenberg was making notes in Steve's file and Rick was making notes in his file too.

"Any questions, Steve?" he asked as he removed his gloves and threw them in the kidney dish.

"Not really, sir, other than how soon can I shower? Bed baths are fine, but they're no substitute for a proper shower."

"There you go again... trying to run before you can walk... pardon the pun! In order to shower you have to be able to get out of bed, and in order to get out of bed you have to be able to fully weight-bear on crutches, and you're several days off that yet I'm afraid. I'm really happy with your progress and your mental attitude... well most of it anyway... but these things cannot be rushed. I understand Friday was hugely demoralising and upsetting for you, and I'm prepared to admit that I must accept some blame for that. It was too soon for you and you simply weren't physically or mentally ready. Today is a whole new ball game. Your pain is under much better control, you're physically much stronger, and your mental attitude is... well... I'll limit myself to saying it's determined! You just have to take it a day at a time. You can begin left leg exercises and Rick will keep me informed of your progress. We can re-assess things as you progress. Now, unless there's anything else," he looked questioningly around the room at the others who shook their heads, "then I'll be off. Dr Greenberg will keep an eye on you and I'll see you again in a couple of days." He reached forward and shook Steve's hand, turned and left the room with his resident and Liz following.

Steve sighed heavily and lay back on his pillows and ran his hands backwards through his hair. "Phew! That was a gamble that paid off," he said with a grimace. He looked at Rick who still stood at the foot of the bed looking stunned.

"It seems like I missed most of that but, when I did come in, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. That's the second time you've clashed swords with him and survived. You don't seem to have grasped the fact that you just cannot speak to Dr Truman like that."

"That sword you're talking about is double-edged, Rick. Dr Truman clearly hadn't grasped, from our earlier encounter, that he cannot speak to me like that either. Well he knows now. Rick, I spent many of my most formative years being brow-beaten and bullied till I was old enough, big enough and fast enough to stand up for myself. I learnt the hard way that if you don't stand up for yourself no-one else will. It won't hurt Dr Truman to have someone stand up to him now and again. In fact, it'll do him good. There's a human streak in him somewhere, you just have to dig deep to find it. I took a gamble today and it paid off and I was lucky and found that streak. Believe me, I shan't overly push my luck a third time."

"I'm sorry to hear that... about the bullying. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No thanks, Rick. It's all fine. It was a long time ago and it's all water under the bridge now. If nothing else it was character building," he grimaced.

"Right, exercises start after lunch. I'm giving you plenty of warning this time. I'll be back at 2.00 pm. You need to ask Liz for adequate meds by 1.30 pm at the latest. Got it?"

Steve laughed and stuck his thumb up in the air. "Got it, boss!" And Rick left the room smiling as he went.

Within minutes Liz returned with a trolley and dressing packs and proceeded to lay them out. She was clearly still flustered.

"Mike said you'll be the death of him one day, and now I'm telling you that, behaviour like I've just witnessed, will be the death of me too. What were you thinking of? Do you have a death wish or something?"

"It paid off, didn't it? Let's just drop it now... and stop looking so worried. Come on. Let's get these stitches out and, Liz... not a word to Mike... please."

"Okay. I'm pretty certain I can guess what his reaction would be, and it wouldn't be pleasant. I wouldn't like to be the one to take you on in a dark alley, Inspector!"

"Me and you in a dark alley... eh? Really, Liz! What are you suggesting?" he jokingly leered at Liz.

"You cheeky devil!" She pretended to be very annoyed and slapped his good leg and made him jump.

"Hey, that's brutality that is!"

"You think that was brutal? Wait till I get my hands on those stitches!"


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

At precisely 1.30 pm Liz came into Steve's room carrying a small pot with two tablets in it. "Right, Steve, here are your meds and you need to take them now. Rick is coming to start your treatment in exactly half an hour and I'm under pain of death to make sure you take them. We don't allow dramatic repeat performances on this ward."

"Ha ha! Very funny. I'm in no hurry to give a repeat performance either." Steve reached forward and took the pot of pills, tipped them into his hand and took them with a drink of water from the glass on the table. He smiled at Liz. "I'm still not looking forward to this you know. Once bitten, twice... scared stiff!" he laughed nervously.

"You'll be fine. Friday was a mistake all round. You weren't prepared either mentally or physically, but today is another day and you're so much better than you were on Friday. I'm sure Rick will take things very carefully this time and assess your pain level as you go along. If there's a problem, and the meds I've just given you aren't sufficient, you've been written up for an extra painkilling shot and you can request it from me at any time, but we don't want to have to use it if we don't have to. Over-medication could cause a reaction in you just as bad, if not worse, than under-medication."

"I'm not sure whether to feel reassured by that or not," he grimaced. "Rick took it easy the other day and look what happened."

"Look, stop being so pessimistic! You want to get out of that bed, don't you?" Steve nodded feeling suitably chastised. "Then the only way to reach that point is to allow Rick to do his job. These exercises have to start sometime and, contrary to what happened last time, he's very good at what he does. Don't let Friday put you off. Those tablets will get into your system quite rapidly, so I suggest you just lie back nice and quiet and let them take effect." And with that Liz swept out of the room leaving Steve to think about what was to come.

It was exactly 2.00 pm when Rick knocked on the door and walked in. "You ready for this today, Steve?" he asked with a cheerful look on his face. "Hey, don't look so worried. You'll be fine, and I promise you I'll take it easy. Now what I propose is that we have a safe word that you can use if my handling gets too rough for you."

Steve wasn't sure whether to be shocked or not. Had he really heard right? Jeez, of all the things he might have expected Rick to say, that wasn't one of them. "Do you mean what I think you mean when you say... a safe word?" His face looked stunned and Rick had trouble keeping a straight face.

"Sure, a safe word is good to have. Whenever I'm with someone I usually insist on one. In fact, we should have had one on Friday... I don't know why we didn't. It's instantaneous and saves you searching through the pain trying to find an appropriate and polite phrase to use if my treatment of you gets too tough. It always works a treat!"

The mind boggles, thought Steve. "What... er... safe word were you thinking of then."

"Well, from past experience, I'm rather partial to STOP! What do you think? Neat hey?" And he burst out laughing at the astonished look on Steve's face, and as soon as Steve realised he'd been had, he started to laugh too.

"Oh, that's bad, Rick. That's very bad," he said wagging his index finger at Rick.

"It might be bad, but it got you laughing didn't it?"

The joke broke the ice between them. Rick knew Steve was nervous, hell why wouldn't he be, and, truth be told, he was more nervous himself than he'd ever been with a patient, at least since he'd been a student let loose on patients for the first time. He began the session by laying out the items he was to use just as he had on Friday and, as the treatment began on his right-leg, Steve realised it was to be almost a copy-cat performance of Friday. Almost... but not quite, he hoped. He knew the meds were well into his system because of the slightly surreal, floaty feeling he was experiencing. It wasn't unpleasant and, together with the massage and exercises on the right leg which were very soothing and relaxing, he was gaining more confidence that he could do this. All too soon the massage of his right leg finished.

"Right, I can tell you've exercised as I told you and that leg is nice and supple, so we'll start on the left now." He repeated the routine as on Friday to raise the hoist slightly and remove one of the pillows, then place a towel under Steve's leg and lower and remove the hoist, just as he had before.

"Ready?" he asked, and Steve looked at him with a concentrated stare and then just nodded and Rick put baby oil on Steve's leg and began very gentle massage.

Despite the meds, it was hard at first for Steve to relax. He couldn't help but anticipate severe pain but, after a few minutes, he realised that, although it was somewhat uncomfortable, it wasn't acutely painful. The meds must be working their magic, he thought, and closed his eyes and gave himself up to the gentle, soothing massage of his swollen left knee, shin and calf muscles. The minor burns had dried up and were no longer sore or a problem. All the while he massaged, Rick's eyes never left Steve's face as he constantly assessed the effect his actions were having on him, ready to stop at any moment should Steve ask. But Steve didn't ask. The meds were cushioning him really well and his faith in Rick was restored.

"Are you okay, Steve?"

"Hmm... yes, I'm fine. You carry on."

Rick couldn't help but smile at Steve who was almost on the point of nodding off. After a while he ceased what he was doing and wiped his hands on a towel and gently wiped the excess oil off Steve's leg. "You feel ready to move on to the exercises?" he asked quietly.

Steve startled very slightly from the reverie he had fallen into and swallowed. "Yes, I'm ready." He still had his eyes closed but Rick couldn't help but notice that his hands, that were lying relaxed a moment ago, were now clenched.

"Sure?"

Steve nodded, but still kept his eyes closed.

"Steve, I think it would help if you opened your eyes. You need to see what I'm about to teach you and you can't do that with your eyes closed," he said very quietly, but with a slight chuckle.

Steve's eyes flew open. "Oh sorry, Rick. I was thinking if I kept my eyes closed it would help me to concentrate on my breathing and... help me to... kind of... will the pain away. Stupid thought, wasn't it?"

"No, it's not stupid, it's understandable, but this session is going well, really well, and I know you can do this. I can sense that you trust me and that's great and I can also tell those meds have really got a hold of you," he chuckled. "The exercises will be very gentle to start with, I promise. We'll gradually build them up over a period of days. Now just relax. That's it. Nice and relaxed." And he began the extension and flexion exercises that were to set the pattern of the sessions for the next few days. Rick found that some patients liked to chat during their treatment, but he sensed that Steve needed calm and quiet surroundings to enable him to concentrate. He visibly winced a few times and Rick stopped momentarily then, at a nod from Steve, he resumed what he was doing. In the beginning the pain was bearable, just about, and Steve forced himself to breathe deeply and evenly, but as the session wore on and the exercises put motion back into his stiffened limb, the less painful they felt. Steve began to feel good that he was getting movement back in his injured leg. At all times, Rick took complete control over the movement of his leg and Steve never lifted or moved it unassisted, but it was movement, and Steve couldn't help but feel elated that it was mobile again.

After about twenty minutes Rick ceased the exercises. "I think that's enough for today. You've done very well and, believe me, I do understand how hard it is for you, and I couldn't be more pleased with how this first session has gone. I'm going to put the sling back on as I think it'll keep you more comfortable until the effects of the treatment wear off a bit. Those muscles will object for a while yet. If the pain is bad you must speak to Liz. Do you promise me?"

"Oh yes, I promise. Dr Cranmer's words of advice not to be a martyr to the pain have become my mantra for the foreseeable future. Actually, it feels good. Granted it's uncomfortable but it's not unbearable and, mentally, I feel much more confident now that I can do this. Thanks for being so understanding and patient."

"Good, that's the exact attitude I want from you. Now, that's it for today. No more exercises but I want to start early and get two sessions in tomorrow. I'll be here at 9.30 am, so meds no later than 9am. Got it?" All the time he was speaking he was tidying away the stuff he'd used and then he settled the sling back under Steve's knee and raised it enough to put the pillow back under, then lowered the hoist again till Steve acknowledged he was comfortable.

"Got it, boss!" Both men were mightily relieved all had gone well today.

"I'll ask one of the nurse-aides to bring you a hot drink. Its tea isn't it?"

"Yes please, that would be great." And with a smile from Steve, Rick left his room. Steve lay back quietly concentrating on his breathing and willing himself to get his equilibrium and sense of calm back. He was so pleased it went well. He knew it was still only a week since the fire, but finally he felt he was making some progress towards getting his life back on track. The meds worked and his relaxation technique worked and, by the time his tea arrived, he was sleeping deeply. The nurse-aide put the cup down on his table but left him undisturbed and quietly left the room.

There were no more visitors that afternoon but Mike came in the early evening. He walked in with a huge smile on his face and Steve saw he was carrying a flat box, a large, flat box, and his mouth watered as the smell of a freshly baked pizza wafted through his nostrils.

"Mike, you beauty! I've been lying here craving a nice, spicy, succulent pizza but... please tell me it's not from Tony's!"

"It's not from Tony's, hot-shot. I went all the way across to Georgio's for this for you. Now if that doesn't show how much you mean to me then I don't know what does," he smiled broadly. "I wasn't even sure about coming in, but I rang the nurses' station to ask how your PT session went this afternoon and I spoke to Pat, at least I think she said her name was Pat, and she said it had gone very well and you were resting comfortably, in fact she said you were asleep. I thought I'd leave it an hour or two before I came in, and then I remembered you said you were craving a pizza so here it is, and it's still warm just how you like it." Mike flipped the lid off the box and the aroma hit Steve full in the face. He inhaled deeply, and his mouth began to salivate. Mike reached into another bag he'd brought in and brought out napkins and two club sodas... and the requested knife.

"And no anchovies! Wow! That looks and smells amazing. Boy, am I going to enjoy this. Thanks, Mike."

For the next hour they both made massive inroads into the pizza and they chatted and laughed together. Mike admired the excellence of the repair on Steve's cheek and checked out the other scars too. After a while he asked him about the PT session and Steve related all that had happened including Rick's joke about the safe-word. Mike just looked puzzled and Steve had to laugh that the joke had sailed over his partner's head. Sign of the times, he thought.

"So, it went well then and it wasn't too uncomfortable? I'm glad, Buddy Boy. I was so worried it wouldn't but, at the same time, I knew you were in a much better mindset today than you were on Friday. I've no idea why that pompous..." he stopped as Steve laughed out loud, "why Dr Truman... wanted you to start those exercises on Friday. Call himself an expert in orthopaedics! Even I could see you weren't well enough. You were only four days post-op then. Utterly ridiculous! I almost wanted to ring up this morning and give him a piece of my mind, then I thought I'd better not rock the boat with that man. You need to keep that guy sweet and on side. Did he come to see you this morning?" And at a nod from Steve who'd got his mouth full, he continued, "How did it go? I hope you remembered what I told you and kept your cool with him."

Steve slid his hand just beneath the sheet and crossed his fingers. "Mike, stop worrying, I was coolness personified. You'd have been proud of me. Have you heard from Jeannie?" he asked quickly changing the subject, but Mike knew him too well to be fooled.

"You're not trying to snow me are you, Steve? I know that look on your face, and why change the subject so quickly? You had a go at him, didn't you?" He stared at Steve who dropped his eyes and just continued to chew. There was no response and the stare turned into a glare. "You did, didn't you?"

A sheepish grin appeared on Steve's face. "Mike, for Pete's sake, everything's fine! We had a few... words... and we're fine. What did you expect me to do? Let Friday's fiasco pass without a comment? You know me better than that. Dr Truman and I reached an understanding... again... and everything's fine. End of story. Now tell me about Jeannie. How is she and when is she coming home?"

But Mike wouldn't be side-tracked. "Oh, so it's all fine, fine, fine! You and he seem to reach an awful lot of understandings, but when it comes down to it neither one of you seem to follow through on them." He sat back in his chair and wiped his fingers and mouth on his napkin and threw it into the almost empty box. "I knew you'd needle him! I just knew it! Alright, you want me to shut up so I'll shut up, and I'll leave it there, but remember this, hot-shot, you're the one who has to suffer the consequences and backlash from him not me." He shook his head. He was exasperated with him, but he also knew him too well by now to know that Steve wouldn't ever allow himself to be walked over. He could only hope Dr Truman had been wearing a flak-jacket at the time.

"I was asking about Jeannie," Steve prompted in an effort to change the subject.

"What? Oh... yes… Jeannie. She decided not to wait till Saturday morning so she's coming home on Friday night after classes. I'm picking her up from the airport at 8.30 pm. You'd better be ready for her, Steve, because she'll lay the law down a whole lot heavier than ever I do."

"Ain't that the truth," Steve said and both men chuckled loudly at the thought. Truth be told they were both desperately looking forward to her coming home. She was like a ray of sunshine that lit up both their lives, but both also knew she was a force to be reckoned with. In no time at all she'd have them both right where she wanted them... right under her thumb... and neither of them could wait.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Over the next few days Steve continued to make steady improvement. Mike visited most days and Bill and Lee had popped in briefly on Wednesday morning for a quick visit. They couldn't stay long and had just come from one of the other wards where they'd been to interview a man who'd been stabbed the night before in a fight with three other men, one of whom hadn't been so lucky. They told Steve they were very busy at work with a man down.

"I'm sorry about that. I knew you wouldn't cope without me!" Steve chuckled. "Mike mentioned he'd managed to get some extra manpower... someone from robbery... I think he said, but he's been very quiet about it and not said much. Am I to take it that his reluctance to tell me anything is a sign that he's hiding something from me?" He looked from Bill to Lee. "He is... isn't he? If he won't tell me then I'll have to find out from you two. Be honest now... how's it working out?"

The look that passed between Bill and Lee was one of resignation. They knew Steve had astutely and correctly cottoned on to the fact that Mike was struggling to accept the new man on the squad. Lee explained that the new detective who had been brought in to work with them, Paul Kingdom, was taking time settling in and seemed to need quite a bit of supervision. It was time none of them could afford to give. He was basically helping out around the squad and he was supposed to be partnered by Mike but, for the most part, Mike was going it alone at times. He just couldn't settle with another partner. Sometimes Mike took Paul out with him, but he was clearly struggling with the guy who didn't seem to be able to do anything right to please him. That made Paul all the more jittery around him.

"He's too hard on the guy and expects too much of him too soon. The simple truth is... Paul isn't you... and... he misses you, Steve," Bill said ruefully.

"Yes, I suppose he does. It's hard to fit in with someone else when you're so used to working every day with the same person. He just needs to ease up on Paul a bit and allow for the fact that he's not me. I remember when I first started in homicide it took me quite a while to find my feet and settle," Steve said as he cast his mind back. "It was so different to working in robbery and vice. You guys were amazing the way you watched over me. I remember I was so overawed by being partnered with Mike, and I was terrified of making mistakes and getting demoted back to vice. I can't say I liked it in vice," he frowned at the memory. "I only did a couple of weeks there but the thought of several years in vice so depressed me that, when the chance of promotion to homicide came through, I jumped at it. It wasn't until I found out I'd been chosen to partner the great Mike Stone that my knees began to tremble, and I began to wonder if I could actually do it and hold my head above water. When I got home that first night I remember breaking out in a cold sweat and thinking... what have I done? He was so tough and belligerent with me at the start that I thought I would never please him and he'd chuck me out before I'd even got my feet under the desk." He smiled warmly at the memory.

"Like that was ever going to happen, Steve," said Lee. "You fitted in to your place with the team like a hand in a glove and, as for Mike, well, he wouldn't admit it, but we could all see he was smitten with you from the start. You say you were overawed, but I think the boot was actually on the other foot. Finally, Mike had got a partner that kept him right on his toes and he had a job to keep up with you. He didn't call you "The Boy Wonder" for nothing you know." They all laughed at the memory of Steve being called that countless times to his cringing embarrassment. He really hated it and often let Mike know it too. It didn't happen so much these days, but Mike still accused him now and again of swallowing a dictionary or an encyclopaedia.

"He'd had to work his way up the promotional ladder the hard way over many years,while I was the snotty-nosed college grad who'd been fast-tracked up the ranks, and he never let me forget it. He still takes great delight in reminding me now when he gets annoyed with me." Steve's smile belied his anger and all three of them knew Mike's bark was worse than his bite... especially where Steve was concerned.

"Look we have to go else he'll be sending out a search party for us," Lee said looking at his watch. "Just take care what you say to Mike. Don't drop us in it and let on too much of what we've said will you? It was great to see you, Steve. You take care and we'll see you again soon." They both shook his hand and headed for the door.

"Thanks for coming and don't let Mike get you down. He's a pussy-cat really," Steve chuckled.

"Yeah, with sharp claws! Hurry up and get back to work, Steve, and you can have Mike back with pleasure," Bill called back laughingly as he and Lee left his room.

Steve lay back on his pillows and thought fondly of his good friends. He knew he'd made great progress in the time he'd been in hospital, but he was eager to get out and back to work. Heaven knew how long he'd be laid up for and out of action. He knew things were tough on Mike but there wasn't a thing he could about it. He sighed heavily, picked up the newspaper and started to read.

Rick came to his room twice a day, in the early morning and then again in the late afternoon, and massaged Steve's leg and then carried out the necessary exercises, some assisted and some not, and by Thursday he felt able to remove the sling support permanently from Steve's leg so that Steve could now do some of the exercises by himself at various times throughout the day in addition to his sessions with Rick. Mario Moretti had brought in the altered clothes on Tuesday so, finally, Steve was able to shed his hospital gown in favour of his newly altered pyjamas. Everything seemed to be moving Steve onwards in a positive direction and he was really pleased with the obvious improvement he could see himself making every day.

The day before the sling finally came off had been a day of conflicting emotions for Steve, starting with the visit from Lee and Bill then, in the afternoon, he'd been thrilled to receive a visit from Mrs Sanchez and her daughter Maria. In her arms she carried baby Rosa.

"Is it alright for us to come in and visit with you, Inspector?" she asked as she knocked and then entered quietly.

"Oh yes, yes, please do. Come right in. It's so good to see you all again, this time in happier circumstances. How are you all, and how's this little one?" He reached out and touched the hand of baby Rosa who instantly grabbed hold of his finger. She was an adorable, brown-eyed child about eighteen months old with black curly hair. The last time he'd held this precious child it was to drop her out of a third storey window of a burning house into the arms of firemen below. It was a very sobering thought. As the memory washed over him he could feel himself welling up and, as he looked at Mrs Sanchez, she could see the moisture gathering in his eyes.

"She's doing really well, Inspector, and that's all thanks to you. If you hadn't..."

Steve cut her off "There's no need for any thanks, Mrs Sanchez. I'm just so glad I was able to help. And my name is Steve."

"Steve, then, and I'm Teresa and this is Maria," she said as she pushed the older child towards the bed. She was reluctant to move forward and clung to her mother's skirt, so Steve held his hand out to her and smiled broadly and she tentatively took a few steps towards him.

"Hello, Maria. I'm very pleased to meet you. How are you doing, eh? Perhaps you're not used to hospitals, sweetheart, but there's nothing here to hurt you."

"What have you got to say to Steve, Maria?" her mother asked.

In a tiny little voice Maria said, "I'm sorry you were hurt. It was all my fault, but I didn't mean it to happen. I hope you get better soon."

"Listen, sweetheart, I know you didn't mean it to happen. Sometimes when we're young we make mistakes and we do silly things that we know, deep inside us, that we shouldn't have done, and sometimes bad things happen as a result, but everything in life can be replaced except our families and our friends. Your mommy and daddy were lucky that you're all okay and baby Rosa looks very well too."

"But I shouldn't have tried to light the stove with a match. I should've asked mommy to make me a drink," she spoke tearfully, "then daddy and Rosa wouldn't have been hurt and neither would you. It's all my fault."

"Hush now... don't get upset. Tell me, how old are you, Maria?"

"Eight next month."

"Well, I'm going to let you into a secret. When I was just a little bit older than you are now, I was playing with matches in my grandfather's shed pretending to light a cigarette, and I dropped the match onto a pile of old sacks and... I burnt down the shed!"

Her big brown eyes were enormous as she listened to Steve's words. "Oh my! Was he mad at you?" Maria asked.

"He was so mad at me at first but, when he realised I could've been badly hurt but I wasn't, he just gave me a great big hug and said sheds can be replaced but my grandson can't. That's how your mommy and daddy feel now. They're sad that they lost the house but they're just so happy that all of you got out alive. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I think so. I know my mommy and daddy love me, and I know they'd have been sad if anything had happened to me, so I guess you're right. They can get a new house, but they couldn't have got a new me could they, or a new Rosa?"

"That's it exactly. Now, all you need to do is remember that." He gently chucked her under the chin. "Hey, could you do me a big favour please? My water jug is nearly empty. Could you take it into the bathroom for me and fetch me some fresh water please?"

As Maria took the jug to the bathroom, Steve asked Teresa, "How are they both doing... really?"

"Rosa's fine. They want to keep an eye on her chest over the next few weeks, but there shouldn't be any long-term ill effects. Maria's been having nightmares, so our doctor has arranged for her to see a counsellor."

"And your husband? How's he doing?"

"Oh, he's doing well. He's had some skin grafts already and there may be some more to come, but he'll make a good recovery in time. We've moved into temporary accommodation with relatives till the house insurance pays out. Steve, my husband and I can't thank you enough. We'll never be able to repay you for what you did for us and you were so badly hurt too and we're so sorry about that."

"Teresa... please..."

"No let me finish! It's eating me up! I should've been there when Maria wanted a drink. I should've gone back into the house myself to get Rosa out, or we should've waited for the fire department. I shouldn't have begged you to go in. It was madness. You were so brave to go into the house like that and..." She was getting more and more upset and tears were pouring down her cheeks.

"Teresa... Teresa... please... listen to me. I'm okay... really I am... I'm okay. Yes, I've got a broken leg, but it'll heal in time and I'll be back at work in a few weeks like nothing ever happened. Please... don't torture yourself with thoughts of things that might have happened. Thankfully, they didn't. Like I told Maria, everything can be replaced and all of you, me included, are safe. It was my decision to enter your house... mine... and I'd do it again if I had to. Let go of the guilt. You have to move forward now, and you can't carry it with you. It'll weigh you down too much. Just be thankful that your family is safe." Steve was holding her hand all the while he spoke, and she gripped his fingers hard.

"Thank you. I'll try my best. God bless you." She wiped her eyes and struggled to compose herself. Just then Maria, who'd been waiting in the bathroom while she knew the adults wanted to talk, came out of the bathroom with the fresh jug of water and her mother took it off her and placed it near the edge of the locker where Steve could reach it and then Teresa spoke again. "My family and I want you to know that my husband's family own a cab company. They're called Status Cabs. Have you heard of them?"

"Yes, I've seen lots of them about, even used them occasionally."

"Well we know you're not going to be able to drive for quite a long while and you can't always rely on friends and family to ferry you about, so we want to offer you the free services of our family's cab company at any time day or night for however long it takes till you're able to drive again."

"Teresa, that's very kind of you, but I can't let your family do that for me."

"Steve, hear me out please. it's going to cost you a fortune to go everywhere by cab and the cost to us as a large cab company is almost negligible. It's our way of doing something in return to thank you and to help you. Please let us do this. All you need do is call up and give your name. All our drivers and phone operatives will know who you are and they'll take you anywhere any time. We would be honoured if you would allow us to do this for you... please."

"Well, if you put it like that then I'll be most grateful to avail myself of their services for the next few months. Thank you." Steve was very humbled by their offer and he couldn't deny it would be a massive help to him.

"That's agreed then. We'll leave you to rest now. It was good to see you and I hope you continue to improve," Teresa said as she touched his hand lightly. Then she took Maria's hand and led her towards the door and gently pushed her into the corridor. Then Teresa turned back and looked at Steve.

"Was it true, what you said about burning down your grandfather's shed?" she asked quietly.

"No, but Maria doesn't need to know that." And he smiled at her as she left the room.

He was left alone with his thoughts and he knew that any hurt he'd suffered was nothing in comparison to what that beautiful family could've lost, but as Steve lay back on his pillows he reluctantly cast his mind back to the night of the fire and, one by one, the horrific events began to unfold before him. His breathing became ragged as he remembered the screams of Mrs Sanchez and her daughter, his dash towards the house, his ascent up the staircase into the choking smoke and darkness and Mike pleading with him to turn back. He recalled his desperation to find the child still trapped in her room, the choking smoke as he felt himself collapsing and unable to go on, and the heart-stopping relief he felt when he heard a cry that spurred him on to find her tiny form beneath the blankets in her cot. He tried to push the memories back, but then he felt again the intensely vivid fear and desperation at the sound of the staircase collapsing behind him, and his terror as he realised their only escape was through the window three floors up. He remembered looking down. There was no ladder yet and they were so very high up. He could feel himself trembling as a wave of uncontrollable emotion passed through him and his breathing became even more erratic. For as long as he lived he would never forget the devastating moment that he realised he had no choice but to drop the child down into the unknown, and the total and overwhelming relief when he heard someone had safely caught her. His shuddering increased. He didn't want to remember any more, and he tried to push back his thoughts, but they were overpowering him, and he could almost feel again the heat as it built behind him forcing him to climb out of the window. He thought he'd buried the crushing memory of the explosion and his terrifying fall to almost certain death, but now it came back in full-force and his body shook and convulsed as he tried to hold himself together, but then the flood gates burst, and tears rolled down his cheeks as he sobbed. The past days in hospital and all he'd undergone since the night of the fire, had taken precedence over the minutiae of the night itself. He remembered that night, of course he did, but now those terrible scenes had surfaced with a vengeance and he was all alone. He had to re-live them with no-one to comfort him. There was nothing to be done but to let the tears fall till his anguish eased and his tears could fall no longer.

It was some considerable time before he regained his composure, wiped his eyes and rested his drained body back on his pillows with just his thoughts to keep him company. Steve knew he was strong, God knows he'd had to be over the years, but he was also perceptive enough to know that a breakdown like that had been inevitable at some point. He knew that he'd been holding all those pent-up emotions inside him and he'd needed that to happen and for them to come out. Strangely, he felt much better for it as he relaxed back and willed himself to settle quietly again. He was just glad no-one had been around to witness it. On the plus-side, if there was one, now the dam had burst and he'd survived the resultant deluge, he didn't think he'd need to seek any counselling from the force psychologist, Lenny Murchison, when he left hospital. He was actually amazed no-one had mentioned it already... especially Mike. Perhaps he was just biding his time. Well, if that was the case then let him. Steve decided to keep his breakdown to himself. What Mike didn't know, Mike didn't have to worry about.

Later that evening, Steve was thrilled when there was a knock at his door and it opened and in walked Norm and Dan. The two middle-aged homicide sergeants were laden with bags and they lowered them to the floor and approached Steve's bed.

"Hey, you two, it's great to see you. How are you both?" asked Steve as he shook their hands.

"Shouldn't we be asking you that? You're the one in the hospital bed!" Norm, as always, called a spade a spade. Both of them stood at the side of the bed taking in the sight of Steve's leg with the frame peeping out of the open side of his pyjamas.

"Oh, I'm doing okay thanks. In fact, I'm doing so much better now and they're talking about maybe getting me out of bed by the weekend. It can't come soon enough for me. You have no idea how infuriating it is to be given a room with an adjoining bathroom and not to be able to use it. I'm longing for a shower."

"Oh, so that's what the whiff is? I wondered where it was coming from," joked Norm and then he yelped as Dan clipped him across his upper arm. "What was that for?"

"Don't say things like that to the kid. You'll only upset him." He raised his voice to Norm but Norm just put that hangdog expression on his face that they all knew well.

"Who me? I only tell it as it is, you know that." And he pretended to sniff the air all around the bed. "Should've brought him an air freshener, Dan."

"Honestly, Steve, take no notice of this joker, he's just having you on," Dan tried to apologise.

"Oh, I'm not offended. It's what I've come to expect from him. After all, Norm will be Norm, and if I don't know him and his idiotic ways by now I never will." And Dan and Steve laughed together while Norm put a hurt frown on his face.

"That's nice I must say, I come all the way over here to visit the kid and this is what I get. I'll have you know I didn't need to come here to get insulted, you know..."

"No," quipped Dan, "you could have gone anywhere for that!" And they all laughed together.

"Pass me those bags please, Norm," asked Dan, and Norm picked the two bags up and put them carefully on the foot of the bed. Dan delved into the first and brought out two crime thriller paperback books, two apples, two oranges, and a bunch of green grapes. Norm opened the other bag and took out a cardboard bakery box with four ring doughnuts inside all with a different glaze, chocolate, vanilla, maple and one with lemon. There were also 4 bottles of root beer and, lastly, he brandished a bag of sunflower seeds.

"We thought you might be running low on these," quipped Norm and Steve laughed heartily.

"You know me too well, guys." He cast his eyes over the doughnuts. "Oh, wow, these look great. You'll share them with me, won't you?"

"What, the sunflower seeds or the doughnuts?" asked Norm with a smirk.

"The doughnuts, you fool," Steve laughed.

"That's good. I'm a man not a monkey!" Norm retorted.

"Huh... that's debatable," quipped Dan and he and Steve burst out laughing.

"Ha flipping Ha! Right pair of jokers you pair are!" Norm replied with a hurt expression on his face.

"Sorry, Norm. That wasn't fair. Of course I meant would you share the doughnuts with me?" said Steve as he tried to keep a straight face.

"Course we will. You don't think we're leaving them for you to eat all by yourself, do you?" quipped Norm.

Dan spoke up, "Actually, Mike's on his way. He's calling in at Luigi's before he comes. They're letting him bring in a big dish of lasagna for us all to share, and he can take the dish back later. We thought we'd have a bit of a supper spread with you," Dan said and then he delved back into the bag and brought out four disposable plastic plates and four disposable knives and forks.

"Oh, my mouth's watering already. In that case I need more chairs in here. Norm, I believe there's a visitor's lounge somewhere along the corridor. Can you fetch a couple more chairs please?" Steve asked.

Norm looked offended and pointed at Dan. "Why can't he go?"

Dan shook his head."Because he's asking you. Just do it will you," and Norm went out of the room grumbling under his breath like a recalcitrant child.

"How do you work with him? I love him to bits, but he'd drive me to drink if I had to partner him," Steve chuckled.

"Beats me! I ask myself that question every day but no-one's ever given me the answer yet! I tell myself I'll get my reward in heaven... but I just don't like what I have to do to go and claim it!" Both Dan and Steve laughed loudly together and when Norm came back into the room with the two chairs he looked at them both quizzically.

"What have I missed?" he asked.

"Nothing, Norm," Dan and Steve spoke in unison and laughed again.

They all chatted together for a while and Steve briefly mentioned the conversation he'd had with Bill and Lee that morning about Mike not taking to Paul Kingdom too well.

"The guy's not so bad but you know what it's like, Steve," Dan tried to explain, "taking on a new partner is like breaking in a new pair of shoes. They always pinch a bit till you've worn them in, but before long they become old, scuffed and... smelly... just like the pair you chucked out." And he deliberately cast a long glance sideways at Norm as he spoke.

"Hey, watch what you're saying. Are you calling me old and smelly?" Norm glowered.

"Now, Norm, would I ever do that to you, but... if the cap fits..." He grinned at the expression on Norm's face.

"Cap? What are you on about now? I thought we were talking about shoes! You call me stupid, but you need to make up your mind what you're talking about."

Dan and Steve laughed heartily at Norm's feigned confusion, then they all chatted companionably until Mike bustled in with the lasagna which was still quite hot. Luigi had packed it well in a box with a hot-water bottle under it and a thick towel over it. Mike served it up quickly onto the plates and all four of them sat chatting and laughing and enjoying each other's company as they relished the lasagna together followed by a dessert of doughnuts. Their reverie continued long into the evening. Despite they're disparate ages they all got on well together as a team at work and off-duty too, and, with Steve in hospital, they all missed that camararderie and closeness. One of their team, the youngest, was badly hurt and that affected them all, but their relief that he was now on the mend and would eventually return to work with them where he belonged, was all too apparent.

Eventually they decided it was time to leave Steve to rest and for each to make their way home. They gathered all the waste in the bags to take with them and dispose of, then they all shook hands and Steve waved them out of his room.

"Thanks for coming all of you. I've really enjoyed myself and the food was great," he said as they left.

Norm gave him a broad wink as he was exiting the door then turned back to Steve. "Hey, kid, if you're not coming back just yet could I have your desk? Mine gets the full sun every afternoon from that window at the side of me and it blinds me sometimes. Yours is in the nice shade. It'd suit me just fine."

Two things happened at once. As Steve called out "Get out of here... and keep your grubby hands off my desk, Norm," Norm was suddenly jerked backwards by the back of his collar and Dan shouted, "Don't you ever shut up? I've told you that desk stays empty till the kid returns!"

They could still hear Steve's laughter as they walked to the elevator and Steve, left alone in his room, could still hear Dan and Norm arguing till the elevator doors closed. Steve lay back tired but happy. It had been a roller-coaster day of emotional highs and lows and the evening spent with his friends was just what he needed to lift his spirits. He knew Norm was a joker and highly annoying at times, but he was a good friend and an excellent cop and, along with Dan and Mike, Steve thought how lucky he was to have such good friends.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The week continued, and Friday morning began just the same as usual for Steve, but in the forefront of his mind was the knowledge that Jeannie was due to arrive that evening from college in Tempe, Arizona. He longed to see her but he knew it was unlikely she and Mike would come in that evening as her flight wouldn't get in till 8.30 pm and then they had to get back from the airport so it might be too late for an evening visit though, knowing her and how insistent she could be, it was a possibility that Mike would bring her in briefly. Perhaps he could persuade June to allow a late evening visit.

Steve's morning PT session with Rick began really well. He was now able to do many of the exercises for himself and, when Rick was present, he was pushing Steve a lot harder and getting the responses from him that he needed to see. He was also very happy with Steve's whole mental attitude towards achieving his ultimate goal. His pain levels were also much improved too the stronger he got, so he was able to reduce the meds a little.

At the end of the session Rick had a surprise for Steve."How would you like to get out of bed?" He smiled broadly at Steve as he tidied away the towels he'd used.

"Sorry? What did you say? Out of bed? Do you really mean... actually... get out of bed?" Steve was astonished. He knew he'd been improving to the point where he felt he was almost ready to try walking, but he hadn't really expected to hear that from Rick today of all days.

"Sure, I mean out of bed. You're doing so well now and there's only so much you can achieve in rehabilitation when lying on top of the bed. We need to start thinking about getting you sitting out in a chair, getting you up on crutches and maybe even into that bathroom over there and that shower that I see you coveting every day. How about it? Are you game?"

"Am I game? You bet I am!" Steve couldn't contain his excitement and he wondered if this day could possibly get any better. "When do we get to do it? Do you mean now?"

"Well, no, not right this minute. I need to call up another PT to help me and, as soon as he's free, we'll come back and get you up on your feet... I mean foot," he joked. "I'll just go and make a phone call and I'll be right back." Rick hurried out of the room and Steve lay on the bed watching the door for his return with eager anticipation. He didn't have to wait too long.

"Right, I've spoken to Tom Webster. He'll be free in about an hour, so I suggest you rest back for a bit, maybe have a hot drink and a cookie or two to fortify you, and then we'll both be back to get you up. Does that suit you?"

"You bet it does, but I think I'm too excited to eat or drink anything."

"Well, it's going to take quite a bit out of you, so I think raising your blood sugar levels prior to the effort it's going to take wouldn't be a bad idea. I tell you what, I'll stop at the desk and have a word with Liz. See what she can dig up for you. You know you've got a look on your face like a kid in a toy shop," he laughed.

"I'm sure I must have. I just can't help it. It's ridiculous really but I never thought I'd get so excited about getting out of bed." And the two of them laughed together before Rick hurried from the room.

In the next hour, Steve drank a mug of coffee and he forced himself to eat a couple of plain digestive cookies. He thought the change from tea to coffee with the extra caffeine hit might fortify him better. He could hardly stem his excitement enough to swallow the dry cookies, but he was mindful of Rick's advice, so he dunked them and then washed each mouthful down with a swig of coffee. He never took his eyes off the door willing it to open.

Just before 11.00 am Rick came into Steve's room carrying a pair of elbow crutches and accompanied by a much shorter, stockier man. He was heavily muscled, probably in his late forties, and had a buzz cut hairstyle and quite a florid face. He was carrying a foot stool. As he approached Steve's bed to shake hands with him, he had a huge wide grin on his face and Steve instantly took to him.

"Hi, Steve, I'm Tom Webster. Rick and I work together when he needs someone to work in tandem with him. I understand you're more than ready for this?"

"You bet I am. After almost two weeks confined to this bed I'm anxious to expand my horizons... even if it is only as far as the bathroom," Steve joked.

"Have you ever used elbow crutches before, Steve?" Rick asked as he placed the crutches against the foot of the bed and also moved the armchair at the right side of the bed about three feet away from the bed.

"Yes, a few years ago when I was a student. I sprained my knee quite badly and had to use them for about a week or so. They weren't difficult to use but I wasn't totally weight-bearing on just one leg then, so this will be a bit different I guess."

"It will be a little different, but at least you have an idea of what we need from you so that will help," Rick spoke and then both men approached the right side of Steve's bed and Rick took the lead in giving the instructions.

"I've adjusted the crutches to what I hope will be the right length for you but I can make further adjustments if necessary. Now, the first thing we need to do is just get you sitting on the side of the bed with your legs over the side. Remember, at no point do you ever put any weight on your left leg until Dr Truman gives you the say-so. Is that clear, Steve?" he asked.

"Yes, very clear."

"Good. Now just support yourself on your hands and move your bottom further to your right side of the bed. That's it. That's fine. Perfect. Now, in a moment I want you to lower your right leg over the side of the bed a little then we'll very carefully move your left leg over the side. Before we do this I need to warn you of what will happen. As we lower your left leg over the side, there will be a gravitational pull and a rush of fluids downwards into the tissues of your lower leg and, to start with, this may feel quite uncomfortable, so in no way are we going to hurry this. If at any point it's too much for you just say stop and we'll rest for a bit. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Steve was looking straight ahead of him and concentrating hard on what he was being told.

With Rick and Tom either side of him and Steve's hands pressing down on either side of him on the mattress of the bed, he lowered his right leg over the side. It felt strange but not uncomfortable, but as soon as they began to very carefully lift and then lower his left leg alongside the right leg, Steve immediately realised what their warning meant as he felt the pull of gravity they'd predicted through the still swollen tissues of his left leg towards his ankle and foot. His head began to swirl with the discomfort and he felt slightly nauseous as he gritted his teeth and sucked in his breath with a hiss.

"You weren't kidding, were you? Can we stop a moment please?" he gasped between in-drawn breaths. Rick and Tom were prepared for this reaction as they gently supported Steve's arms on either side.

"Just take it easy and breathe nice and deep and slow for us. I know it's difficult, but the pain will pass in a minute or two. Your leg hasn't felt this downward pull of gravity for quite a while, so it'll take a little time to settle. The more you're up and about the easier it will get." explained Rick. "Let me know when it passes, Steve."

After a couple of minutes of steady breathing the pain and nausea began to pass and Steve felt ready to move on and gave a nod to both men. Rick reached for the elbow crutches and placed them on each of Steve's arms.

"Now, ease forward a bit and put your right foot on the floor. That's it. We'll help to support your weight and, as you apply pressure on your right foot, I want you to push down on both crutches evenly as we get you to stand. Don't worry, we won't let you fall."

Steve did exactly as he was told and steadily he stood upright on his right leg with his left leg slightly bent at the knee and off the floor. There was another rush of pain as he stood but it wasn't as severe, and it soon passed.

"That's great, Steve. Well done. How does it feel to be upright again?" asked Rick.

"Good... er... weird... but good. I just feel a little weak, but I can work on that and build up my strength again," Steve adjusted his hand-grips and straightened up fully.

"Now, keep your balance on that foot but move the crutches forward about a foot and put your weight on them. That's it. Now lift and swing your right leg forward and step onto it again. That's it. You're doing great, Steve. And again... and again... and now let's get you to rest in this chair for a moment," he said as he gently pulled the chair behind Steve.

"Put both crutches in your left hand to support your bad leg, hold the right arm of the chair with your right arm and lower yourself into the chair. That's it... perfect." Tom helped Steve to gently raise his left foot onto the stool.

Steve settled back a little and looked up towards each of the men in turn. "Phew! I did it!" he said as he smiled broadly at both of them.

"You most certainly did. That was excellent. Now, take a five minute breather then we'll get you up again and you can take a little walk around the room and maybe have a better look inside that bathroom of yours." Rick sounded as pleased as punch at Steve's progress.

After a short break, Steve reversed the movements he'd been told to do when he sat, and stood again with a little aid from Rick and Tom. He moved forward and steadily took a few steps around the room becoming more confident with each step he took. He turned and made his way over to the bathroom and looked through the doorway and then took two steps inside. He could see there was a support frame either side of the toilet and a seat and support handles in the shower too. There was also a stool by the sink.

"I'm so excited to see this room properly after so long I've a mind to christen it if you gents don't mind," he laughed and Rick and Tom both laughed heartily along with him. They stood back away from the door but didn't close it.

"Be our guest, Steve," they chuckled. "Just don't fall over." Shortly after, the toilet was flushed, the tap was run and a paper towel was pulled from the dispenser, and then Steve emerged from the bathroom on his crutches with a huge grin on his face.

"Freedom from the bedpan and bottle at last!" he cried and all three men laughed heartily. He made his way slowly back across the room to the chair which had now been placed at the side of the head of the bed with it's back to the wall.

"Bed or chair, Steve?" asked Rick.

"Oh, chair, definitely. Now I have my new-found freedom I'm not in any hurry to give it up again too quickly." He placed the crutches to the side of the chair and keeping his left hand on them and his right arm on the chair arm he gently lowered himself into it. Tom placed a pillow on the foot stool then helped Steve to gently rest his left calf and ankle on it. He placed another pillow at Steve's back.

There was a long, exhaled sigh of relief from Steve as he leaned back and surveyed his room from his new position. "This feels absolutely great. Thank you both so much for getting me up and mobile again. You've no idea how much this means to me. I feel I've made enormous progress in just one day and I can't wait for Mike to come and see me sitting here. He'll be like a dog with two tails," he chuckled.

"You have every right to be proud of yourself. Many patients take a lot longer than you have to reach this point. You've done extremely well for the first time out of bed. How's the pain in your leg?" Rick asked.

"Not too bad at all. It's a bit uncomfortable walking with it hanging down and holding it bent but it's bearable. Mind you, I won't deny it's good to be sitting again for a while," he smiled at both men.

"It'll get better the more you do it, but don't overdo it to start with and... just be careful. Now, just a few pointers to leave you with. For the first few attempts until you build your strength and confidence, I don't want you getting in and out of your chair, or in and out of your bed, without someone alongside you to watch you don't fall. Carry on with your exercises. You should be able to do some of them from your chair and the rest on your bed. Do not weight-bear on that left leg under any circumstances. Get used to using those crutches but don't tire yourself too much and have regular rests between walks. Have you got all that?"

"Yes, totally understood. I'll take care. I don't want to set myself back by doing something crazy. Is it okay if I leave my room occasionally for a longer walk down the corridor when I feel strong enough?"

"Not just yet. I'll be back this afternoon to take you out for the first time and once you've done that I'm sure it'll be fine. Just check with one of the nurses that the corridors are clear of lunch trolleys or cleaners... and corridors only, Steve. No stairs till we say so?" Rick stressed strongly. "Anything else?"

"Yes. When can I shower? You have no idea how I'm longing for a proper shower and hair-wash," he crinkled his nose a little. "I'm sure I must be getting whiffy by now."

Both men laughed at the look on Steve's face. "I can understand that, but you needn't worry. We honestly hadn't noticed, Steve. I'll check with Dr Truman and get back to you, but I don't see why you can't have a shower now as your wound is nice and dry. Your aide is Walt isn't it?"

"Yes, for my sins," he laughed.

"Well, Walt is well practised in the art of showering orthopaedic patients the correct way so, when you get the all clear, you will only be allowed to shower with his assistance till he's happy you can manage on your own." Steve pulled a face at that, but Rick was quick to stress, "That's important, Steve. No showering alone yet. I mean it."

"Okay. I've got it. I'll do as I'm told, I promise," Steve assured Rick. He wasn't keen on the idea, but he knew all these rules were ultimately for his benefit and if he disobeyed any of them and then fell, or caused an exacerbation of his problems, he would probably set his progress back and would only have himself to blame.

Rick looked long and hard at Steve and then nodded to him, glad that he seemed to accept that what was being advised or insisted upon was for his own good. "Right, I'll go and speak to Dr Truman and update him on your progress and I'll ask about the shower and let you know what he says. I'll be back later this afternoon and we'll take a walk down the corridor to the elevator and back. Bye for now." And both Rick and Tom left the room.

Steve was left sitting in his chair with his table nearby and with his newspapers and books on top, but he was far too excited to read anything. He was tired too, but when he thought back over the last two weeks and all he'd endured since he fell from the window, he supposed it was only to be expected. But he was on the up now and he would do nothing intentionally to regress. He wanted to get home, back to work and eventually back to full fitness and he knew he had the will to achieve his goals.

When Walt came into his room to offer him the lunch menu he was amazed to see Steve sitting in a chair with crutches propped up beside him.

"Way to go, Steve! That's great to see you up and about at last. Now what about lunch? We have Coq au Vin on the menu. I had it myself in the canteen a couple of days ago and it was quite passable... for a change. Mind you there wasn't much Coq in it and precious little Vin but, what the heck, it's not bad. Do you fancy some?"

"Go on then, I'll try it, as long as it's not from the same batch as you ate from two days ago," Steve joked and Walt laughed and went out to the food trolley in the hall and brought him back a bowl of the Coq au Vin with a side dish of carrots and broccoli. Steve chose a banana for dessert and Walt left him with a cheery, "Enjoy your meal."

For once Walt wasn't wrong and Steve cleared his plate. Maybe he'd just worked up an appetite this morning, or maybe he was in a more positive frame of mind. Either way, his plate was clean when Walt came back to collect the dirty crockery.

"Hey, Liz has just told me Dr Truman's okayed it for you to have a shower, so as soon as I've helped clear the lunches, I'll be back to help you. Things are looking up, Steve."

Yes, thought Steve, things were finally looking up for him. He was going to have a shower, then later a longer walk with Rick to explore the wider world outside the confines of his room, and then Jeannie was coming, possibly tonight but, more realistically, tomorrow. Yes, things were certainly looking up.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Steve was sitting back in his chair at the side of his bed wearing clean sweat pants and a blue tee shirt. Gosh, he felt good. His hair was still wet from the shower but he felt wonderful, and he was sure he must smell a lot sweeter too after nearly two weeks with just bed baths. He'd combed his light-brown hair back off his face and it was slowly drying and falling into place in its usual waves. Walt was still tidying the bathroom and singing under his breath whilst he did it. Steve smiled and couldn't help but think what a great guy Walt was. He still slipped up with the occasional 'Stevie-boy' but even that didn't bother him so much any more. He was very good at his job and he'd taught Steve the correct way to shower in order to protect his injured leg. He had to sit on a shower stool and use a special anti-bacterial wash and keep his leg well sluiced with clean water all the time and not let dirty water contaminate the pin sites any more than he could help, then, when he was finished, the last thing he had to do before turning off the shower was a final thorough sluice over his frame and thigh with clean water. That area was dried as well as possible with a separate clean towel, again to avoid cross contamination. The frame was dried off too and then Steve had to painstakingly dry each individual pin site thoroughly with cotton swabs. During the whole showering procedure Steve had felt no embarrassment. For all his joviality, Walt was totally respectful of the dignity of the patients in his care.

Walt finally emerged from the bathroom with the wet towels having replaced them with clean ones. He dumped them in the laundry basket alongside the sheets from Steve's bed which he had changed moments ago. He had also bagged up Steve's dirty laundry ready for Mike to take home later for him and bring it back freshly laundered. "How does that feel now?" he asked as he looked at Steve who was almost glowing with a feeling of cleanliness.

"Wonderful! I feel like a new man, Walt. Thank you so much."

"My pleasure, Steve. It's almost the best part of my job to see a patient making such giant strides in improvement. The only thing that tops it is waving them off home and I don't think that will be too long for you now, though don't quote me on that." Walt's cheery assurance lifted Steve's spirits even more.

"Let's hope not. I'm naturally eager to get out of here. I just have to school myself to be a patient patient," he said with a broad grin.

Around four o'clock Rick returned to Steve's room.

"Gosh you're looking better and feeling better too I'd guess," he said as he noted a freshly showered Steve in his bedside chair.

"Absolutely. By the way, Dr Cranmer came by earlier and said he's handing over my care fully to Dr Truman, so now I'm totally at his mercy! Anyway, I'm ready for anything you throw at me now," he joked.

"Well, I wasn't thinking of throwing anything at you, but I am prepared to walk you out of this prison cell and down the corridor as I promised earlier. How's that for a compromise?" And he moved forwards as Steve pushed the bed-table away from him and reached for his crutches.

"Just point me in the right direction," said Steve.

Rick let him make all the movements for himself but was at his side should he stumble at all. As they walked towards the door Rick opened it wide for Steve to pass through and Steve looked to left and right as he emerged. To his left was the nurses' station, but only Pat was sitting there at the time. She looked up and gave Steve a cheery wave and a thumbs-up. To his right was the long corridor, with doors off to other rooms, that led to the elevator. They began the long walk and Steve could feel himself becoming more confident with every step he took. Eventually they reached their destination and he paused and leaned on his crutches. Suddenly the elevator doors opened, and Steve looked across and was totally surprised to see Mike stepping out. As Mike stepped out and picked his head up he saw Steve standing in front of him supported on his crutches with Rick by his side, and a huge grin spread across his face.

"Well, would you look at that! Back on his feet and smiling fit to burst. Why didn't you tell me this was happening?" Mike looked so happy to see Steve up on his feet.

"I only knew myself this morning. Rick and Tom got me out of bed earlier for a walk around my room, Walt helped me to shower this afternoon and now Rick's brought me out for a walk around. Pretty neat... eh?"

"I'll say, and you look much fresher with your hair all newly washed too. Is this all in honour of Jeannie coming home tonight?" He smiled broadly at both men.

"It wasn't intended but I'm glad it's been done. I feel much more ready to meet her now I'm clean again," he said with a boyish grin on his face.

Rick listened to their chat. "Is Jeannie your girlfriend, Steve," he asked and then looked rather surprised when Mike shot a dark look at Steve.

"No, not at all. No... er... nothing like that. Jeannie is Mike's daughter. She's away at college in Arizona but she's flying home for the mid-semester break. I like her a lot, in fact I love her to bits, but it's more of a friendly relationship, kind of like brother and sister." He looked across to Mike who merely nodded and smiled at Steve, but the gesture wasn't lost on Rick who could sense the undercurrents passing between them and decided it was best not to push his questions any further.

"Right, I think that's enough for today so let's get you back to your room. You don't want to do too much first time out." They headed slowly back to Steve's room and he settled on the chair with his foot on the stool again and then Rick left Mike and Steve alone to talk.

"You look great, Buddy Boy, and I'm guessing you feel a great sense of achievement too. I'm so proud of you. When I think of the state you were in this time last week and I look at you now, there's a world of difference."

"Don't remind me, Mike. I've cast that day deep into the dark recesses of my mind and, when I get out of here, I intend to send all the other memories of the last two weeks there too. I only wish I could delete them altogether." Steve grimaced as he spoke and his expression wasn't lost on Mike.

"Listen... about that. I've been meaning to mention this to you but I've been waiting till you were stronger and trying to find the right time. Rudy and I were chatting and he feels... well… we both feel that..."

"No, Mike!"

"No what? You didn't let me finish! You don't know what I was going to say."

"Yes, I do... and the answer is no!"

"Look Steve, you might think you're doing well, and on the surface you are, but after what you went through that night... and since... well... we think if you just had a chat with..."

"I said no! I know you think you mean well, Mike, but I don't need to talk to Lenny. I'm doing okay... more than okay now... and I'll be out of here soon and able to move on with my life, and raking it up all over again isn't going to help. Now can we just drop the subject... please?"

"No, I'm sorry we can't! This is too important to just sweep under the carpet like it has no bearing on your future, and you know it! Apart from when we talked soon after the injury, you've never really talked about what happened that night and you need to Steve. You need to open up to somebody and, if it's not going to be me, then it needs to be Lenny. You said yourself you've buried those memories deep in the back of your mind. Well, they need to come out Steve. You need to get them out and... and talk about them. We've both been through crisis situations before and you know the score. It does no good to bury your thoughts and feelings. You need to... to go over them... talk about them and... well... examine them and... evaluate them... and Lenny can help you do that." Mike's blue eyes pierced Steve's green ones and Mike could sense trouble was brewing.

"Do you think I haven't already done that? Do you think I haven't already re-lived that night? Just because I don't tell you every little thing that's happened to me since I've been in here doesn't mean to say it hasn't happened. I've spent hours on my own in this prison of a room and, believe me, Mike, I've done all that you've just said. I've re-lived that night. I've gone over it all. I've... I've taken it apart and... and examined every detail and... and... I've done whatever it was you just said. Oh yes... that's right... I've... evaluated... those memories... every... single... detail... of them, and I have no desire or need to go through them all over again. Not with you and not with Lenny! Now, back off, Mike... please. I know you mean well but... please... let it drop."

Steve was shuddering with the overwhelming emotions that were pulsing through his body and Mike could see the struggle to control his anger that was going on in his young friend's mind. He grabbed Steve's hand and held it tight. "I can't let this drop, Steve. I just can't. Do you think I like doing this to you... putting you through this? Well, I don't... but it's what you need, Steve. Your very reaction now tells me that those feelings deep inside you are eating you up and need to come out. Talk to Lenny... please. You know it's the right thing to do."

Steve's eyes had welled up and now the tears were beginning to fall. "They are not eating me up, Mike. I've shed my tears. I've shed buckets of them and now, damn you, you're making me do it all over again. Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do you have to keep worriting at it like a dog with fleas? You want me to talk about it? You want me to tell you what happened? Okay... I'll tell you what happened. Remember I told you Teresa Sanchez came to see me this week with her children? Well, I talked with Teresa and... yes... it was hard... and... yes... we got emotional. It was so heart-wrenching seeing those kids and... and remembering what they went through... and how Rosa had come so close to... to dying... if... if I hadn't found her in time. I had no way out, Mike. The stairs had gone and... and... there was only the window! I had to drop her out, Mike... that precious child. I had to hold her out and let her drop... and then... and then... there was just me... at the window... and the fire... the fire was lapping at my heels! There was no ladder... so I had to climb out... I had no choice... I had to hold on as long as I could... but then... then..." The anguish was spilling out and consuming him and he gripped Mike's hand so hard Mike thought it might break. "... then there was an almighty explosion... and I fell Mike... I remember it... I remember falling... it was maybe a second of my life... but I knew... I just knew... it was going to be the last second of my life. Do you want to know what my last memory was as I thought death had taken me? It was you Mike! I heard you scream my name! I knew it was you. Your voice was the last thing I was ever going to hear in this life. Your voice... Mike! And.. and if it hadn't been for that blessed bush, that... that... would've been how I met my end. Is that what you wanted to know? Is that what you wanted me to talk about? Are you happy now? "

Steve's heart was breaking and Mike fumbled in his pocket and brought out his trusty white handkerchief and pushed it into Steve's hand. "Here, I think you need this." He released Steve's hand so he could dry his eyes but Mike's eyes never left Steve's face. Steve was almost inconsolable and Mike could do nothing but watch and wait. "Steve... Buddy Boy... can't you see this is why you need to talk to Lenny?"

"NO! I can't go through all that again with Lenny, Mike. I don't want to go through it all again. Can't you understand that? I can't! I relived it all after Teresa Sanchez left and I shed my tears until I was all wrung out... and now... well... if you wanted the dam to burst again then... congratulations... you've achieved it. That's the second time it's happened and... believe me now when I say this... there is not going to be a third. I do not need to see Lenny. I will not see Lenny." There was a long silence between them as Steve struggled to compose himself and hold back the flood of tears and Mike could do nothing but watch him. Then Mike's hand reached out and held Steve's forearm and he gripped... hard. Steve tried to shrug his hand away but Mike was having none of it and just held on tighter.

"Alright... alright... settle down. Calm yourself, Steve, please. I never knew about the other day because you shut yourself off and you never told me. That's what you do. You shut me out and you bottle things up and you won't share them. Well, now you have told me. Now you've opened up... to me this time... so I think we can leave it for now. Oh, don't get me wrong, I still think seeing Lenny would help but... no, don't interrupt me... what I don't think would help is for you to have to go through it all over again... not yet anyway. I'll speak to Rudy and I'll speak to Lenny and put them in the picture. You did what I wanted you to do Steve. Harrowing though it was, you talked to me. I'm sorry it was so hard for you but... it's what you needed and... I'm sorry... but it's what I needed to hear too."

"Well that's okay then! I'm glad you got to hear what you wanted! You know I hate being brought low like this, Mike. I've talked to Lenny before... when I've had to take someone out... and...yes... I'll admit it helped... but this time it's different Mike. This time..." a shudder ran through him, "... this time it was me that nearly got taken out. As I fell... my whole life was about to be wiped out in a second... Gone... Over." He drew a deep breath and steadied himself to continue, and Mike could tell he was in better control of himself and his voice was calmer. "When I woke up in that ICU... with the constant beating of the heart monitor in my ears and that... that...machine breathing for me... and the doctors leaning over me... the realisation slowly dawned that I had survived, but the first feeling to hit me was... what state am I in?... how badly am I hurt? Hell, I'd fallen three storeys down! I couldn't move, Mike... I thought I was paralysed... but... as they took the breathing tube out and talked to me and told me my injuries... well... I knew I'd got off lightly in comparison to... to what could have happened. The relief hit me... it physically hit me, Mike. I'd survived! I wasn't going to be a cripple for the rest of my life and I stood a good chance of getting my life back to how it was before, and I made my decision, there and then, to only look forward and not to look back to what might have been. Oh, I dare say I'll have my moments but I've come to terms with it, and I've accepted I have a long road ahead of me, but what I don't need is to keep talking about it... to you... or to Lenny. Do you understand what I'm saying? I don't need it, Mike. I've got this. I know what's expected of me. Just let me do this in my own way. Yes, I'll need you and the support I know you will always give me, but I have to do this for myself... by myself. Now... can we please change the subject because this one... like me... is all worn out?"

"I'm glad you talked, Steve, and not for my sake but for yours, and you want me to drop the subject now, so I will, but I want you to promise me something. I don't think for one minute that we've heard the last of this, and if ever you feel anything is troubling you... if ever you feel you're not coping... maybe not now... but in the future... you'll talk to me or... better still... to Lenny. He knows what he's doing, Steve. He's good at his job and... he can help... you know he can."

Steve's eyes were fixed on Mike's but now he dropped them and fastened his gaze on the frame attached to his thigh. "I know that, Mike. Deep down... I know he can. Just... not right now... please."

"Okay. I think we'd best leave it there. You'd had such a good day so far and I was so pleased for you, and now I've done what I desperately didn't want to do and I've upset you. It was done with the best of intentions, Steve, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know, but when my stubbornness meets with your persistence it's always going to be a battle royal. I meant what I said though, Mike. I've got this, but if I need to speak to Lenny... or to you... then I promise I will."

"That's all I wanted to hear, Buddy Boy. Now, I'd better leave you to tidy yourself up and then get some rest. You looked so good when I came in and now you look like an emotional wreck, and it's all my fault. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you meant well, but don't worry about me. I'll pull myself together, and I have Jeannie coming home tonight to look forward to. I suppose it'll be morning before I see her though, but I'll still be looking forward to it."

"Yes, morning is more likely. I doubt it'll be tonight when I bring her in and, after this, it's probably best if I give you time to re-group before she descends on you."

"Yes, I think you're right. I can't wait to see her."

"No more than me, Steve. No more than me. I can't wait to meet her off that plane and give her a massive hug. Now, have you eaten? I left work early this afternoon and shot here straight from work for what I thought was going to be a quick visit, but I have to go home and tidy up a bit before Jeannie gets here. I could go to the hospital coffee shop and get you something if you want me to."

"It's okay. There's no need. I actually had a half decent lunch today and I can get something off the supper trolley. You go home and get your cleaning cloths and vacuum cleaner out. You know what she'll be like when she gets home. She'll be doing a finger check for dust over every surface." Steve laughed but it wasn't lost on Mike that it was a very subdued laugh.

"Don't I know it, but no matter how much I clean up she'll do it all over again tomorrow. She's just like her mother. Well, if you're sure you don't mind, I'll be off. I'll bring her in first thing in the morning. Will that suit you?"

"That'll be fine, Mike. I'll try and contain my excitement till then." And both men enjoyed the joke together as Mike walked towards the door.

"This was going to be a very happy day for me, Steve, seeing you back on your feet, and then Jeannie home where she belongs tonight... I thought it couldn't be better. And then, I had to go and upset you..."

Steve could see Mike was getting emotional so decided to cut him short. "Go, Mike, now! Go on and clear off out of here. Give Jeannie a hug from me and I'll see you tomorrow."

As the door closed on Mike, Steve willed himself to relax. He knew he shouldn't have reacted that angrily to Mike but he couldn't bear to dredge it all up again. What made it worse was that he knew Mike was right. They had both sought the help of Lenny in the past and, yes, it had helped to talk to him and get them through a rough patch... but not now... not this time. He knew he'd come closer to death than he'd ever come before, but he just wasn't ready to talk about it and have his emotions and thoughts analysed as he knew Lenny would want to do. Maybe he would in the future... or maybe never. As the afternoon wore on into early evening, no-one came in to disturb him and he rested quietly. It had been a busy day and a taxing one on his emotions too, and he was beginning to feel the effects of it. He decided that whichever member of staff came into his room next, he'd ask them to help him back to bed. For the moment he'd just lay back on his pillows in his chair and rest his eyes.

It was quite a while later before a candy-striper came round with the evening meal trolley. He roused from sleep and opened his eyes as he heard her come in. He asked for a tea and just chose an egg mayonnaise sandwich and then asked her to watch over him as he got back into bed. Soon Steve was ensconced back under the covers with his injured leg and frame uncovered to stop it getting overly warm, and he forced himself to settle down with one of the books that Dan and Norm had brought in, another whodunit that was actually quite gripping. He munched his sandwich and drank his tea as he immersed himself in the pages of his book.

After his night-time ablutions, this time undertaken in the bathroom after June watched over him as he got himself out of bed and then safely back in again, he settled back with his book once more, and he was still reading in bed preparatory to dropping off when the door to his room quietly pushed open and a small voice whispered, "Hey, Steve, are you still awake?" and Jeannie sidled into his room with Mike following closely behind.

Jeannie! Jeannie was here. He looked at his watch. It was just after ten o'clock.

"Jeannie! What the devil are you doing here at this time of night? Does the night nurse know you're here?" He spoke quietly as he pushed himself more upright in the bed.

Jeannie was beaming her beautiful smile at him and her face was alight with mischief as she approached the bed. "She's given us five minutes and no more and we have to be as quiet as church mice so as not to disturb anyone else." She stepped forward with her arms outstretched and Steve enfolded her in a warm hug. "I couldn't bear to wait till morning to come and see you. I've been so worried about you, but seeing you now looking so well makes me wonder what I ever worried about. How are you?"

"I'm not so bad now. It's been rough, but you're seeing the new improved me. I wasn't this good a few days ago. I'm still in need of loads of TLC you know," he grinned at her. "Gosh, it's good to see you. However did you persuade Mike to bring you at this time of night, let alone persuade June to allow you in?"

Mike spoke with a frown but the underlying love for his daughter was plain to see. "Huh! She can be very persuasive you know. You should try saying no to her when she wants something badly enough. I've given up."

"Too true. I wonder where she gets it from," Steve said as he looked long and hard at Mike and the older man was the first to pull his gaze away.

Fortunately, Jeannie noticed nothing amiss between them. She took in the scars on Steve's arms and tenderly stroked her finger down the one on his face that was still very pronounced, and then lowered her eyes to his discoloured thigh and the frame that could be partially seen through the open side of his pyjamas. "You've really been in the wars this time haven't you, Babe?" she spoke softly and held his hand. "Mike told me it was so brave... what you did for those people, but that's just you, isn't it? Never a thought for your own safety. She looked over her shoulder at her father. "When I think how you both put your lives at risk, I should be so mad at you both, but I just can't. You both make me so angry and so proud all at the same time. Mike's told me you could've died, Babe, and when I think how close I came to losing you... well... it breaks my heart."

Steve could see Mike frowning as he looked at their hands held tightly together, so he patted hers with his other hand and broke the hold. "Jeannie, I didn't die so stop fretting will you. It just had to be done... so... I did it. It's no big deal."

"No big deal, huh? I still don't think Mike's told me the full story yet, but he will... when we get home. I want to know everything that's happened."

Just then the door to Steve's room opened and June popped her head around the door smiling. "I think that's long enough, folks. I can assure you he'll still be here in the morning, Jeannie. He's not ready to go anywhere yet."

Jeannie hugged Steve again. "I'll be back tomorrow just as soon as I've given this great galoot his breakfast. Night, Babe. Sweet dreams," she whispered as she and Mike walked towards the door.

"Night, Jeannie... night, Mike. It's good to have you back. Don't come too early tomorrow. I always have a PT session about 9.30 am."

"Okay, Babe," she whispered as she left the room with a brief wave.

June lightly cleared her throat. "I think that's enough reading for you tonight, Steve. Lights out now please. Never fear, your girlfriend will be back in the morning."

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend, she's just... a friend... Mike's daughter," he explained to June.

"Not your girlfriend eh? Perhaps you should try saying that with a little more conviction, Steve." And she closed the door behind her.

He laughed to himself that June had misunderstood his relationship with Jeannie, and his last thoughts before he dropped off were of how much he was looking forward to seeing her again in the morning.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

It was just after 3.30 am and Steve couldn't sleep. He'd woken up half an hour before and now the night-nadgers were back harrying at him. He had so much on his mind that efforts to return to sleep evaded him. His mind turned to thoughts of Jeannie, and he couldn't get what June had said out of his mind. Jeannie was a lovely girl... one of the best, but he really didn't see her in any other way than as a friend... did he? When she came to his room a few hours ago he had been so pleased to see her. He'd always felt his feelings for her were those of a very close friend, a kind of pseudo-brother, but June thought she had seen more... maybe even a romantic connection between them... and now Steve was plagued by thoughts of whether he wanted that to be true or not.

He had absolutely no doubt that Jeannie was a lovely, kind, funny, wonderful girl. Since he'd become Mike's partner all three of them had formed a very strong bond, and they'd welcomed him into their lives in the same way that he'd welcomed them into his. That kind of closeness was still a relatively new feeling for him. As he lay in the darkness he had to acknowledge that his life prior to meeting them had been spent very much alone. That wasn't to say he was lonely as such, for he had plenty of friends and he was aware that he was a sociable and likeable man. That wasn't him being conceited, it was just fact. He knew he got on well with people and made friends easily, both male and female, but that's all they ever were... friends. Admittedly, some were closer than others, but it wasn't the same as having family. He'd never had family... not until Mike came along. He recalled the feelings that used to gnaw at him when he saw others revelling in family life, feelings of envy and complete isolation from the comfort and belonging that being part of a family gave to a person. Steve had never experienced that feeling until he met Mike and Jeannie. They had become his family, and Steve loved them without reservation, and being held close by them meant he'd finally lost that feeling of not belonging to someone, of not having someone of his very own. He wasn't of their blood but that made no difference. He knew without doubt that no blood ties could ever surmount the bond that they had. He had finally found a place where he belonged.

As he lay in the darkness, alone with just his thoughts, painful memories from his childhood and youth tugged at him to be recalled and confronted, but he knew from past experience it never did him any good to dredge them up, and so, as he always did, he pushed them back down refusing to allow them to surface and be re-examined. He tried never to think of them and he'd never ever spoken of them to anyone... not even Mike. They were thoughts and experiences that belonged only to himself and he kept them locked away deep inside. It caused him too much pain to ever allow them out.

From the moment he met him, Mike had always invoked a rule that Jeannie should never date a cop, and Steve had always respected Mike's wishes. A cop's life was one of long, unsociable hours. Some people he came across were good people, but more often than not his life involved mixing with the dregs of society, the dross of humanity, and very often it was fraught with unknown dangers. When a cop went on duty his family, wife or partner never knew whether he'd ever return home again or, if he did, would he still be the same man, mentally and physically, who had left the house that morning. As a homicide cop Steve encountered death every day of his life. He saw the destruction it caused and the devastation it left in its wake. Mike had witnessed first-hand the agonies his beloved wife, Helen, had suffered whenever he went on duty never knowing if he'd come home again but, despite her fears, their marriage had stayed strong and had never faltered. They had shared an absolute faith in their love for each other and had never had any doubt that their marriage could withstand anything life threw at them. Steve knew and understood why Mike didn't want those same agonies for his daughter, hence his 'no dating a cop' rule. So far, he'd had no trouble adhering to that rule, but now June's comment had made him take apart and examine his feelings more closely than ever before.

Was romance with Jeannie ever likely to be a possibility? The more he pondered the question the more sure he felt that he couldn't see it ever happening. He loved her deeply and would willingly give his life for her if it were ever asked of him, but that wasn't the hearts and flowers romance of love 'till death us do part'. He was a red-blooded male and he wanted to find those deep feelings of passion and closeness... of belonging... with a woman, but was Jeannie destined to be that woman? Their relationship had always been purely platonic. He'd always treated her like a kid sister, but she wasn't his kid sister, she was a stunning young woman, ripe for love. He'd never spent any time with her in a romantic way, had never even been on a proper date with her, and though they'd often been alone together there had never been any hint of intimacy between them. Their relationship had never been like that and he didn't find it easy to envision himself united with her as a couple. He simply didn't sense that kind of connection between them, and neither had she ever given him cause to feel that she felt that way about him.

As the clock on the wall opposite his bed ticked inexorably onwards towards the dawn, his thoughts began to clarify and crystallise. Jeannie had never given any indication that she felt drawn to him in any other way than a platonic one. He loved to see her, longed for her to come home on vacations, loved to spend time with her and Mike, but he knew it wasn't the same feeling as that which he should expect from the all consuming and abiding love of a man for a woman. What they shared was simply a deep bond of love and eternal friendship, and now he felt certain it was destined to be nothing more. The relationships he'd shared with women in the past had fulfilled certain basic needs within him, but he'd never yet met that very special someone with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life, and with whom he wanted to start a family. Some people spoke of that connection as meeting their soul mate. Jeannie would always hold a very special place in his heart, but he knew without a doubt that Jeannie was not his soul mate. The questions that had rolled around in his brain, one after the other for the last few hours, had finally found their answers. His bond, his closeness with her was, and always would be, loving and loyal, solid and deep, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that nothing would ever break it... but Jeannie wasn't 'the one'. He hoped he would find his soul mate one day, just as Mike had done. He hoped there was someone out there waiting for him... somewhere. Would he ever find her? Perhaps... perhaps not... but he was having fun looking and he wouldn't give up on his dream. Maybe he just had to accept that his future love-life, like everything else at the moment, lay in the lap of the gods.

As his mind settled one problem it moved on to the next and the heated discussion or, if he was honest, the full on row he'd had with Mike that afternoon. Mike really hadn't deserved that. Well, he couldn't blame it on the meds this time. So what could be blame it on? Steve knew his friend had only been acting in his best interests and he hadn't deserved such an angry response. Why was he so against speaking to Lenny Murchison? He liked Lenny and got on well with him and he'd helped in the past to get him over several of the traumatic incidents that, as a police officer, were part and parcel of the job, but this time was different. This time he couldn't... just couldn't... keep going back there to the events of that night when, for that brief moment of his life... the last second of his life... he'd looked death in the face and knew it had won. That his survival was little short of a miracle was truly remarkable, but he couldn't allow himself to keep going back there to think about it. He had to keep himself moving forward. It was the only way he was going to get through the weeks and months ahead. There was just so much to cope with at the moment just to get himself through every day, that re-living that night in a counselling session when he would be expected to completely open up and lay his deepest feelings out for Lenny to pick over in minute detail, could be what broke the tenuous strings that were currently holding him together. Just thinking about that night was enough to cause him to break out in a cold sweat. What if talking to Lenny brought on a really bad breakdown? What if Lenny felt he'd been so badly traumatised by the events of that night that he couldn't return to his job as a police officer? What if talking to Lenny proved to himself that he couldn't go back to the job he loved? The more he tossed it over in his mind the more he knew he just couldn't let himself go there again. Forwards not back... that was the way he had to go.

He could feel himself shaking and he wiped the sweat from his brow. He poured himself some water and slowly sipped it, willing himself to settle, to control his breathing and calm himself down. He knew all this angst was doing him no good at all. All his life he'd settled his problems by himself and not sought help elsewhere, and then he joined homicide and met Mike. He knew he could talk to Mike, but it was never easy for him to ask for help from someone else. As he lay back on his pillows and willed himself to relax, the rational part of his brain started to kick in and, as he turned it all over in his head again, he knew he had no choice. He had to seek that help... professional help this time. Mike was right... as usual. Bottling it up wasn't an option. It wasn't going to do him any good. He had to go back there again and face his demons and it wasn't fair to put the onus on Mike to help him. Not this time. He had to get it out of his system, out in the open and it had to be with dealt with. If he didn't, no doubt it would rear it's ugly head again one day in the future, probably when he least expected it. It was better that the move came from himself now rather than it was forced on him further down the line by his superiors. He knew he hadn't been fair with Mike. He'd vented angrily and he'd hurt his friend who was the one person he could rely on more than anyone else, yet Mike had listened. He'd let him vent and he'd taken all that Steve had thrown at him and yet still understood. Oh, he knew they'd eventually parted on good terms. That was the good thing about their partnership and friendship. They could vent their feelings to each other knowing there would be no long-term repercussions and damage to their friendship, but that still didn't make it right. There were fences to mend and only Steve could mend them. He still didn't like it though. He hated being pushed to do something he didn't want to do but, more than that, he hated hurting Mike in return. Steve knew he had enough to cope with at the moment with his recovery and rehabilitation without throwing psychological counselling into the mix too, but he also knew he couldn't ignore it any longer. As the early dawn light filtered through the blinds at his window he made his decision. After breakfast, he'd take a walk out of his room with his new found freedom and find a phone, and he'd call Lenny and ask him to come and see him... to talk to him. Yes, that's what he would do... what he needed to do... what he had to do.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Walt had finished helping Steve with his morning bathing routine and had left him to eat his breakfast, but Steve knew he couldn't eat until he'd forced himself to go and make a phone call while his nerve still held. It was still quite early but he was taking a chance that Lenny would be in his office and, even if he wasn't, he could leave a message on his answer machine. He asked the nurse at the desk if he could use her phone briefly and, as he dialled the number and Lenny answered, Steve made the request that he knew he had to make. Lenny listened quietly while Steve talked and agreed to come and see him after lunch that day. As Steve replaced the receiver and turned to make his way back to his room, he turned back and picked it up again and dialled the number that was imprinted on his brain. It was answered on the third ring.

"Hello, Stone."

"Mike... it's me. I'm sorry, Mike, for what I said. You were right. I do need help. I've phoned Lenny and he's coming to see me after lunch."

"Oh, that's good, Steve. I'm glad."

"Mike?"

"Yes."

"Are we okay... you and me?"

"We're more than okay, Buddy Boy."

"Thanks, Mike." Steve replaced the receiver and, as he returned to his room, he could only hope he'd made the right decision. Well, there was no going back now.

Half an hour later Walt was clearing away Steve's breakfast dishes when Rick entered Steve's room pushing a wheelchair. "Good morning, Steve. How are things with you today? Are you managing to get yourself out of bed and into the bathroom okay? Liz tells me you're doing really well. Is that right, Walt?"

"Yes, everything's going well and Steve's getting from bed to chair to bathroom and back again with more confidence every time he does it. I'm more than happy with him," reported Walt quietly.

"So, what's with the long face, Walt?" asked Rick. He looked across to Steve, but Steve just shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't ask me. I've asked him the same thing several times, but he seems reluctant to tell me. I think he has problems with his wife," Steve said in an aside to Rick.

"For the last time I do not have trouble with Maud. Everything is just fine between us. Can't a guy just be having a bad day for crying out loud?"

"Oh-oh! You've upset him now, Steve," smirked Rick.

"He has not upset me! Oh, for Pete's sake, if you must know the 49ers are playing the Raiders this Sunday and my friends and I can't get tickets. It's a home game and completely sold out, so because I can't go Maud is insisting I go with her to her mother's church bazaar this weekend. They've been making a patchwork quilt together and this is the weekend they get to exhibit it. Like I'd even know what to do at a bazaar surrounded by cackling women." He almost howled as he felt so hard done by.

Steve and Rick burst out laughing at the tortured look on Walt's face at the thought of the weekend ahead of him.

"Oh my, Walt. I never thought I'd have to admit to feeling sorry for you but, knowing what a great fan of the 49ers you are, I have to say I feel quite sorry for you. There's really no comparison between a football game and a church bazaar." Rick was laughing so much he had to wipe the tears from his eyes. "I know where I'd rather be if I had the choice... and it wouldn't be admiring the mother-in-law's needlework."

Rick and Steve were enjoying Walt's discomfiture.

"Which side are you on then, Rick?" Steve asked between giggles.

"Oh Walt's, of course!"

"No, you idiot. I meant the San Francisco 49ers or the Oakland Raiders?" Steve was laughing and enjoying the banter between the three of them, and he could feel his earlier heavy mood lifting.

"Oh, the 49ers without a doubt. Is there any other team? Mind you, Tom would argue that point. He comes from the East Bay area so he's a big Raiders fan. It's been a while though since I managed to get to a game. Tom too I think. We work such crazy hours."

"Oh, so that's great. We all support the same team even if Tom doesn't," Steve said as the light-hearted feelings ran through him. "I'm sorry you can't get tickets, Walt, and for your friends too. How many of you usually go to the game?"

"There's just the three of us... Harry, Dave and me. We've been friends for years and we always go to the game especially when it's San Francisco against the East Bay team. Trouble is I thought Harry was getting the tickets, Harry thought Dave was getting them and Dave thought I was getting them. The upshot of it all is that none of us have got the darned things, so we can't go. We've never missed a home game against the Raiders before. Oh well, can't be helped I suppose, but I'll be darned if I'm going to some church bazaar. No way!" And he flounced out of the room carrying the dirty dishes leaving Rick and Steve laughing in his wake.

"Poor Walt. So, what's with the wheelchair, Rick?"

"I'm taking you for a jaunt today. We're off to the PT room downstairs."

"The PT room. I'm guessing you've got something in store for me there?" Steve looked a little puzzled.

"Stairs! That's our project for today... to get you safely manoeuvring yourself up and down stairs. Once I'm happy that you can do that without a problem there's not much reason to keep you here any longer. We'll need to have a chat later about your home situation, but we'll get the stairs sorted first and do that afterwards."

"Wow, so I'm going home soon am I?" Steve could hardly contain himself. He was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt again today and felt much more comfortable.

"Well, I'm not promising anything, but maybe Monday is a possibility," Rick replied, "but don't get your hopes up too high just yet. It'll all depend on how well you cope on the stairs... and on Dr Truman! If ever a man needed keeping sweet right about now it's him. Just you remember that."

"Rick, I can be sweet as liquid honey when I want to be," Steve smiled sweetly.

"Fine, just don't overdo it. The man's no fool." He held the wheelchair steady as Steve lowered himself in and sat holding his crutches in front of him and balanced on the footrest.

He was taken in the elevator to the first floor and into the physical therapy department. For the first time since he came into hospital, Steve looked out of the windows and was seeing the world at ground level. It resembled a sports hall or gymnasium with all sorts of equipment dotted around the room. There were wall bars, parallel bars and low beams and several curtained-off bays all along one side with treatment beds in them. Rick headed towards the bottom end of the room where there were some support bars for walking and also two sets of wooden flights of stairs, one with three shallow steps up to a level platform and three deeper steps down again, and another similar set but with six steps up and six down again. Both sets had handrails on either side.

As Rick parked Steve's chair and Steve readied himself to get out, Tom Webster came over to join them.

"Good morning there, Steve. You're doing well I see. I'll just be alongside with Rick while we get you used to these stairs."

"That's fine, Tom. Good to see you again. Everything seems to be moving at quite a pace now. Apparently, once I've mastered these bad boys I may be able to get out of here and home again, and I can't wait." He eased himself forward and, without any help from either of them, he raised himself to his feet exactly as he'd been taught the day before until he was standing upright on his crutches. He looked at them with a huge grin on his face. "Come on then. Bring it on!"

For the next hour, they had him walking up and down first the three-step stairs then, after a ten minute break, they moved onto the six-step flight. Sometimes they made him go up using one crutch and his hand on the rail on his right, and sometimes he went up and down the steps on crutches alone as if there was no rail available at all. It took a lot out of him, particularly as most of his weight was taken by his upper arms and chest muscles, but he was eventually able to do it without too much difficulty and without assistance from either Rick or Tom.

"That's enough for your first attempt, Steve. We'll come back again this afternoon and you can try again. By then I think I'll be more than happy to report to Dr Truman that I think you can go home." He laughed at the look of sheer joy on Steve's face as he handed him a small towel to wipe the sweat from his face and arms. "I take it you approve?"

"You bet I do. I can hardly wait," Steve smiled broadly. Despite his lack of sleep and the worry of the meeting with Lenny, Steve was feeling good in himself and in the swift progress he was making.

"OK, let's get you back to your room and we'll have that chat before I leave you." Steve got back into his wheelchair and was wheeled back to his room. When they got there, it was to find Jeannie sitting in the armchair at the side of his bed reading the newspaper she'd brought in for him.

"Hey, Jeannie, have you been waiting long?" Steve asked as he took in the welcoming sight of Jeannie in a pair of smart beige pants and a pretty yellow blouse with tiny orange flowers sprigged all over it. She reminded him of a ray of sunshine. "Jeannie, this is Rick Garcia my physical therapist," he smiled as he made the introduction.

"Hello, Rick it's nice to meet you," she replied with a smile as she and Rick briefly shook hands. "No, I haven't been waiting long. You look pleased with yourself, Steve."

"Rick's had me negotiating stairs. I did pretty good even if I do say so myself." He smiled, and his obvious sense of achievement was plain for both to see.

"He did very well," Rick countered with a grin.

Steve manoeuvred himself out of his wheelchair and back onto the top of his bed allowing Jeannie to take the bedside armchair again and he lay there panting a little from the exertion.

Rick sat on the smaller chair provided for visitors and opened a file that he carried. "I need to have a chat with Steve about his home circumstances, Jeannie, but there's nothing private to say so, if Steve's alright with you staying, I don't mind."

"By all means she can stay. I have few secrets from Jeannie. Well, that's not strictly true. I do have a few that I wouldn't care to divulge," he chuckled, "but I doubt anything we could talk about here could be construed as private from her."

"Right, it's just a few general questions. What sort of access do you have to your apartment, Steve?"

"Well it's on a hill. Isn't most of San Francisco? I have nine brick steps up to a level landing then another six wooden steps up to the front door."

"Any railings?"

"Yes, er... just on the left for the bottom flight but a railing on both sides of the wooden steps."

"No rail on the right for the first flight."

"No. I'm afraid not."

"And is the apartment all on one level or are there stairs inside?"

"No, it's all totally on one level."

"Separate walk in shower or is it over the bath?"

"Separate."

"Are there any handles to assist you getting in and out of the shower?"

"Well... no... but I think I'm going to need a couple so... er... perhaps Mike could get someone in to fix that asap before I get home?" He looked across at Jeannie.

"That's not a problem. We can soon get a handyman in to put a couple of rails up for him," she smiled at Steve.

"You're going to need a shower stool and another for by the sink too, and maybe a temporary frame around the toilet like you have here," he pointed into the bathroom. "Do you have room for all that? Is your bathroom big enough?"

"Yes, it's not enormous but there's plenty room for a stool and a frame."

"That's great. We have an equipment loan service here that you can borrow them from until you're back to normal, and then you can return them. Groceries. How will you get supplies?"

"Oh, that's OK, Rick," said Jeannie. "I'll stock him up before he comes home and then Mike can keep him topped up as and when he needs more."

"That's great, I was a bit worried how he'd cope with getting supplies." Rick sounded relieved.

"Hey, you two. You're talking about me as if I'm going to be a prisoner in my apartment. I can still get out and about by cab I'll have you know, and I can still go to my local grocery store and order what I want. Mr Leibowitz will deliver for me, I'm sure. I don't expect to be completely helpless." Steve sounded quite put out at having his life arranged for him by other people as if he was totally unable to do things for himself.

"Sorry, Steve, we didn't mean it that way, but you have to bend a little and accept that you will need some help at home, at least until Dr Truman says you can partially weight-bear on that left leg. Once you can do that it'll make life a whole lot easier for you," Rick explained.

"I'm prepared to bend a little, as you put it, but I'm sure I'll manage fine by myself for the most part and, if I can't, then you can be sure I'll figure it out in my own way, or I'll ask for help. It's my leg that's out of commission not my brain and mouth!" he said indignantly.

"Okay, fine. We've got it!" Rick laughed at the annoyed expression on Steve's on his face.

"He could even come and stay at Mike's. He's done it before when he's been hurt, and I know he'd be welcome," Jeannie piped up.

Steve retorted swiftly, "Oh, that's a brilliant idea! Why didn't I think of that? Jeannie, there are about forty steps up to your house! I think I'll cope with fifteen up to mine but forty is stretching it a bit don't you think?"

"Oh, yes. How stupid of me. I never thought of that."

"No, I don't think you did. You're just so eager to get me under your thumb you didn't consider the practicalities did you," Steve softened his voice and laughed as he nudged her elbow.

"Steven Keller! I am not trying to get you under my thumb. Anyway, I'd have a job to do that when my thumb, accompanied by the rest of me, is going to be some 750 miles away back in Arizona by Tuesday night," she said sharply and cast him a dark look.

"Now, now, you two. Play nicely and no fighting please," Rick chuckled as he thoroughly enjoyed the funny banter between the two of them.

"Sorry about that, Rick. We don't mean anything by it. It's all said in good fun... isn't it, Jeannie?" Steve gave her a gentle shove. "Jeannie... I said isn't it?"

"Oh, I suppose so. I never can stay angry with you for long," she replied sharply, but her hurt look was rapidly replaced by a beaming smile.

"Right," said Rick as he stood up and gathered his notes. "I'll leave you now and go and sort the stool and the frame. Jeannie, do you have a car with you to get them home?"

"Yes, that won't be a problem."

"Okay. Come and see me in the PT department on the first floor before you leave please, and I'll have them for you. Bye for now you two and remember... no fighting!"

"Bye, Rick," they replied in unison.

"He's nice," said Jeannie after Rick had left.

"Yes, he is. Very nice. Listen, can you find out from Liz where the nearest pay phone is please. I need to make a call."

"Sure, I won't be long." Jeannie left the room but she was soon back again. "It's down the hall in the patients' day lounge. Want me to walk with you?" she asked as Steve began to get himself off the bed and onto his crutches.

"Yes, if you like, then I want you to do a couple of things for me." They made their way down to the lounge where Steve made a phone call. He replaced the receiver with a satisfied smile on his face.

"That's the first thing sorted. Now, Jeannie, I want you to do a couple of things for me if you wouldn't mind please." And he took a piece of paper with a short list written on it, from the pocket in his pants. He explained what he wanted, and she listened carefully.

"Okay, that's no problem, Steve. I'll be happy to do that for you. Do you think you'll be home tomorrow?"

"I'd love to but I think it's unlikely. Tomorrow's Sunday and I think I have to see Dr Truman for discharge before I go, so it's more likely to be Monday. Will you have enough time to do all that and stock my fridge?"

"Sure, but I'd better get off now."

"Here, you'd better have this." He opened his cheque book and signed several blank cheques and handed the book over to her. "You'll need to use these to pay for the groceries and the other stuff."

"Thanks, that's a great help. See you later, Steve." And she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, picked up her bag and left.

Steve sat in the pleasant lounge a while longer then picked up the phone and asked the operator to connect him to another number. He completed the call and, with a very satisfied feeling, slowly made his way back to his room.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Steve rested quietly on his bed for the rest of the morning, but moved to his chair after a light lunch. He hadn't been able to eat much as his stomach churned as he anticipated Lenny's visit. Shortly before 2.00 pm there was a light knock at his door and a smiling Lenny entered and approached the bed and shook Steve's hand.

"Hi, Steve, it's good to see you. Mike's been keeping me informed of your progress and tells me you've been doing really well. I understand you're up and walking on crutches now."

"It's good to see you too and... yes... I'm not doing so bad. The physical therapy is hard but I'm getting there. They had me practising on stairs this morning so, hopefully, it won't be long now before I can go home. I'm sorry I rang you so early this morning, but I needed to call you before my nerve failed. Lenny, I really need to talk to you. I need your help."

"Well, that's what I'm here for and I'm very glad you called and asked to see me. Mike's worried about you, you know, and I'm sure it probably comes as no surprise that he's asked for my advice. He wanted me to come and see you but, as I told Mike, I would prefer any request to see me to come from you... and now it has. I've spoken to the nurses and I've put a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on your door so, for as long as it takes, I'm all yours."

Just over an hour later, Lenny felt they'd achieved what they needed to and he was preparing to leave. "I'm glad we had this talk, Steve, and I hope you feel a lot better for it and have more insight. I can understand why you tried to explain away your irritability in the initial days as due to the strong meds you were on, and there could well have been side-effects from them that were affecting you, but I hope you are now more ready and able to accept that the recent flashbacks, anxieties and irritability verging on anger, are all very indicative of post traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. You are a strong man, Steve, and very often people of strong character perceive their inability to cope with the stress of a traumatic event as a failing, or a weakness, within themselves which they can neither understand nor explain away. This inability to cope with your emotions, that you experience at times, comes out in the classic irritability and anger that you've described to me. You're used to being in command of your emotions so you tend to see any failing in yourself as weakness, and for that reason you find it very difficult to come to terms with it. I hope talking to me has made you see that PTSD is not a weakness, but it is a well-recognised reaction to the severe stress you were put under the night of the fire and in the days since. The impending long recovery and rehabilitation along with the resultant time off work, is also playing a significant part in your stress."

"I must say I do feel better knowing I have an explanation for why I've been acting so out of character. I don't know why I never thought of PTSD before."

"You didn't think about it because your inner self didn't want to acknowledge it. PTSD, or shell-shock, or whatever else you want to call it, has been around for many years, but it's still not openly talked about and recognised to the extent that it should be. Now you know what it is, perhaps you won't be so hard on yourself. I can prescribe some medication for you to help, but I'd like to see how you progress with just counselling at first. It's something we can always fall back on if necessary."

"Have you any idea how long it could last?"

"Many people don't experience the symptoms of PTSD until several weeks, or even months, after the trigger incident. The longer it takes for the symptoms to show, the longer it tends to go on for. The fact that your symptoms came on quite soon leads me to feel that they may not be so severe as many experience and, hopefully, they will settle much sooner. As you grow stronger and more mobile, and you get back into everyday life with familiar surroundings and activities around you, your confidence in yourself will return and your mind will settle. Little by little you'll find yourself more in control of yourself, but it won't happen overnight. I can only repeat what I said to you earlier. You need to give it time. The old cliché of 'time is a great healer' has to be your mantra for the foreseeable future."

"I seem to be collecting a lot of these mantras just lately," Steve grimaced as he listened to Lenny.

"Well, I'm afraid it's perfectly true. It sometimes takes longer for the mind to heal than the body does, and it can't be rushed. I've known you for quite a few years now and I know how strong and determined you can be and, believe me, nothing of what we've talked about today is unusual in circumstances like these, so stop beating yourself up thinking that these feelings are abnormal. They're not. They're an understandable response to an extreme situation that you found yourself in. Your physical injuries will heal given time, but you have to accept that what you went through mentally, and will go through in the coming months, will need time too, but I'm confident you'll get there. I'll continue to follow you up for a while yet. You've told me you're hoping to be home soon, so I'm not going to make an appointment for a definite follow-up date between us until you're home, but I would like to see you again in a week or so for another chat, so give my secretary a call and arrange another appointment when you're back home. Also, you know where I am any time you want to talk. As you know, SFPD policy is that I will have to file a report with Rudy on our meeting today. I'll have to tell them about the PTSD, but it will be a generalised report and will not go into the specifics of what we have talked about, so you can rest assured that the details of anything we've spoken of today remain strictly confidential and stays purely between us. SFPD policy also means that I will need to talk to you again at some time in the future to sign you off before you return to work but, that aside, my door will always be open to you if you need me."

"Thank you. This report... will it affect my future in the department? Will the PTSD stand as a black mark against me?" Steve asked worriedly.

"Not at all, Steve. The very reason why the department like officers to see me after traumatic incidents like this, is so that they can talk it all over and get their feelings out into the open and, hopefully, prevent repercussions further down the line. Contrary to what you've just asked, it's actually a good thing that you asked to see me. This worrying and insecurity about 'have I done the right thing?' is just another facet of the effect on your confidence. Trust me... it'll all come right in the end."

"There's just one more thing I'd like to ask of you before you go. Would you speak to Mike for me please and put him in the picture. I find it hard to talk to him about these things at the moment without getting myself worked up, so I'd prefer any explanation to come from you personally. You can probably explain it to him better than I can."

"Very well, with your permission, I'll be happy to do so."

"Thank you, Lenny... for everything. It has helped to talk and I'll take on board all you've said, and I won't be so slow to ask for help if I need it in the future."

"Good man! I'll leave you now. It was good to see you." He stood up to leave and shook Steve's hand. "Just remember... any time Steve... I'm here any time you need me. I'll see you again soon. Bye for now."

After Lenny left Steve rang for the nurse and asked if it was possible for her to get him a hot drink. He needed time to assimilate what he and Lenny had chatted about, and he knew Rick would return for him later in the afternoon for another session on the stairs so he needed to recoup his energy. The morning session in the PT room going up and down the stairs, followed by the chat with Lenny, had taken its toll on him. Whilst he was supremely pleased with himself and the progress he was making, he also knew he was far from recovered physically and tired very easily. After all, it was still only twelve days since his injury occurred, but he'd had enough of the hospital and wanted to get home, and that was his main aim now. He felt sure he'd cope once he was inside his apartment if he could just get up and down the outside steps. He was still in quite a lot of pain with his left leg but was able to manage without the Fentanyl on a regular basis now. He still had it occasionally and he had tablets to take if the pain was very bad but, for the most part, he managed almost entirely on the higher strength Tylenol now. Hopefully even that could be reduced in strength soon. Strangely, it wasn't the fracture that was causing the pain because the frame stabilised it, it was the pain from the damaged ligaments and the dislocation that still troubled him, but even that was improving every day and, although the exercises caused him pain, they also helped to strengthen his knee. He thought to himself that the exercises were a proverbial double-edged sword. What was that comment Rick made over a week ago? There's 'no gain without pain'. Never was a truer word spoken.

Eventually Rick came and took Steve down to the PT room. Tom was present again on his right with Rick on his left as Steve made his way up and down the steps with increasing confidence and ease.

"Take a breather for a few minutes, Steve." And they all sat together, Steve in his chair and Rick and Tom on a wooden form. "You're doing extremely well, and Tom and I are very happy with you. I don't think you'll have a problem at home. Do you want to pack up now or, when you've rested, are you happy to just do a couple more up and downs on the six step frame and then we'll call it a day for today?"

"I'm game to carry on a bit longer if you are," Steve replied strongly, though secretly he'd had enough for one day. He was tired and his shoulders, arms and chest muscles were aching from the effort of propelling himself up and down on just one leg and his crutches, but the need to get home drove him onwards.

"Okay, if you're sure. Don't overtire yourself. We'll have two more sessions tomorrow then Dr Truman will see you on Monday morning and, hopefully, discharge you. It's a pity tomorrow is a Sunday, but we rarely discharge on a Sunday, otherwise I'd be happy to let you go then, but I've reported regularly to Dr Truman and he knows you're more or less ready to go. Come on then, one last push then you can rest. Are you sure you're happy with that?"

"Yes, that's fine. I want to master the stairs without a rail to help me as that's going to be my biggest challenge at home. The rail on the lower flight of steps at home is on the opposite side to where it needs to be, so I'll have to manage without it and rely on the crutches alone. Let's get to it."

Steve approached the steps confidently and, without using the rails at all, he made a steady ascent. He then manoeuvred himself along the flat top and then began his descent, again unaided by the rail. A wave of weakness suddenly passed through him, but he pushed himself on. He was on the second step down and about to lower himself onto the third step, when he suddenly lost his balance and pitched forward. Rick and Tom both made a grab for him and somehow managed to take most of his weight but not sufficient to prevent him falling forward and whacking his face heavily on the right handrail. Fortunately, Rick and Tom were able to turn him as he fell so that he didn't land on his left leg, and then they gently lowered him to the floor where he lay on his back breathing deeply and bleeding heavily from his mouth. The metallic taste of blood was trickling down the back of his throat as he lay flat causing him to cough and panic a little.

"Okay, Steve... take it easy... that's it... easy now. Just rest a moment. You're okay. We've got you. You're swallowing a lot of blood so let's sit you up... that's it. Tom, pass me that towel, will you?" He pressed it on Steve's bleeding mouth. He was still on the floor but now in a sitting position and Tom had positioned himself directly behind him, supporting his reclining weight. Other physical therapists had seen the fall and one ran to a small room off the main room and came back with an ice pack which they put on his mouth.

"Did you hurt your leg, Steve? Did you twist it at all?" Rick questioned him. He was very shocked himself. That had come completely out of the blue and totally unexpected, but their training meant they were prepared for such eventualities and had been able to prevent serious damage to his leg. They weren't so lucky with his face though.

Steve just gently shook his head from side to side. "No, I think my leg's okay, it's just my mouth. Man, it hurts," he mumbled painfully through the towel. "Damn, I think I broke a tooth too." He spat out a white chunk of his tooth. Blood had dripped and run down his neck and throat and onto the front of his white T-shirt leaving a gruesome splatter trail.

"Okay. Let me have a look, Steve. Let me have the towel and ice pack." And, as he lifted them away, he could see that Steve's upper teeth had penetrated his lower lip going right through the soft flesh. He gently opened Steve's mouth and could see that Steve had broken a large chunk off his right central incisor.

"Yes, I'm afraid you've definitely broken your tooth. Don't worry about that too much. I'm sure the dental team will be able to fix that as good as new." He replaced the icepack. "First, we need to get you down to the emergency room, so they can get a look at your mouth. Let's get you up and into the wheelchair." Between them Tom and Rick gently lifted Steve off the floor and lowered him into his chair.

"I'll ring ahead and warn them we're on our way," said a shaken Tom, as Rick began to wheel Steve through the PT room to the main doors.

As Steve was hurried along the corridor he mumbled. "It was all going so well. Blast it! Why did I have to go and fall like that?"

"These things happen, Steve. Perhaps you were tired, and I pushed you too hard."

"No... no... it wasn't your fault. I just lost my balance. I think I lost my grip on the crutch. I was doing so well too. I could kick myself... well... I would if I could." He tried to laugh at his feeble joke, but it was far too painful. As he was wheeled along, he could only hope this didn't set him back several days and delay his discharge.

As they entered the ER Rick was directed to put him into an empty treatment bay by a nurse and they got him out of the chair and up onto the examining table. They were quickly joined by a young intern and Rick gave him the details of what had happened, and then he was asked to leave the bay whilst the intern made his examination. He was sitting on his own in the ER waiting room when Tom joined him and sat at his side.

"Any news yet?" Tom asked.

"No not yet. They're with him now." Rick spoke in an anguished tone, "How did I let that happen, Tom? I should've been watching him more carefully."

"Hey, it wasn't just you, you know. I was there too. I'm just as much to blame. I just didn't see it coming. He seemed fine and was stepping down strongly and with assurance and then he just pitched forwards. I swear my heart stopped for several seconds. That was so scary. Thank God he didn't land on his leg. Dr Truman would've kicked our butts from here to the Golden Gate Bridge if he had done."

"Maybe we would've deserved it. Was I pushing him too hard, Tom? I know he's eager to get home and he's the type that will push himself to extremes to achieve what he wants but... oh, I don't know... I honestly thought he was doing okay. He didn't seem overly tired and he wanted to push on when I asked him. Maybe I should've over-ruled him and called it a day earlier."

"Yeah, like Steve would've listened! I'd like to think it was just a simple accident, Rick. It could've happened at any time. I don't think he was tired or being pushed too hard, but I'm not sure. I think he may have just slipped, as he claims. Let's just hope there's not too much damage, though I hate to say it... his face looked a mess. We'll have to write up a report for Dr Truman for tomorrow and I can tell you now... he's not going to be pleased."

Just then the intern emerged from the bay and walked over to where they were sitting. "Well, there's not too much damage. We've taken an X ray as a precaution, but I don't think his jaw is fractured. It's mainly superficial where his teeth have gone through his lower lip. He's going to need a few sutures in that wound, so I've called in the plastics team. He said Dr Carr stitched the laceration on his face, so I'm hoping he'll come and help us out again. I've also got a dentist coming down to see him shortly too. I doubt they'll do anything to repair the tooth properly until the swelling has gone down, but they may do a temporary repair as it looks like the nerve is exposed and that will cause him a lot of pain. Ultimately, they should be able to crown it easily enough and no-one will be able to tell it was ever damaged. I also examined his leg and it seems fine, but I've ordered an X ray just to be on the safe side and to be sure we haven't missed anything. All in all, he'll have a very bruised and swollen mouth, but it should heal well enough. Cheer up, gentlemen, it could've been a whole lot worse. Oh, he'd like to see you both, so you can have five minutes but no more. He's still pretty shaken up." With those final words he left Rick and Tom and they made their way along to the curtained off bay.

"He's not the only one shaken up," Rick said to Tom as they approached the bay. "Hey, Steve, how are you doing?" Rick asked as they entered through the curtain. Steve still had an ice pack held to his mouth, but he removed it briefly to show them the extent of the injury.

"Put it this way," he muttered in a muffled tone, "I won't win a beauty contest that's for sure! Listen, I can guess what's going through your heads right this minute, but I don't want you guys to worry. It was a total accident. You weren't in any way to blame. My hand slipped off the crutch, that's all."

"Try convincing Dr Truman, Steve. I don't think he'll be happy till he sees heads roll … my head in particular... especially after the fiasco of the first treatment a week ago. That was my fault too," Rick admitted.

He needed to reassure them both, but it was so uncomfortable for him to talk that his words were muffled and slurred as he spoke. "Rick, that was not your fault any more than this was. I was to blame the first time by not asking for stronger meds, and this time was a pure accident, and I'll make sure Dr Truman knows that, so stop worrying." As Steve tried to reassure both men, the nurse came back in and asked Rick and Tom to leave so Steve could rest. She explained she had a syringe with a shot of morphine ready to give him for the pain.

"Oh hell, here we go again. More morphine! I thought I was done with it." As they left the cubicle Rick said "I suppose I'd better call Mike. He's another that's going to go ape."

"I think it'll be a case of 'light the blue touch paper and stand well back' don't you?" Tom tried to joke but both of them knew they hadn't heard the last of this.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"He did what? How the hell did that happen? He was in your care, for heaven's sake! I expected you to take better care of him," Mike shouted down the phone and Rick held the receiver a few inches away from his ear and pulled a face at Tom who was listening in to the conversation. "I'm on my way over right now. I only live a few minutes away. Where is he? Is he still in the ER? I'll speak to you again when I get there. This is bound to set him back and just when he was about to come home too." Mike was still muttering loudly to himself as they heard him replace the receiver.

"Well, I'm glad that went well. I'd hate to meet him when he was really mad." Tom tried to inject some humour but he was not looking forward to this meeting any more than Rick was. Rick had previously told him the Lieutenant was a very pleasant and malleable man but, in view of the job he did, Tom guessed it probably masked a rod of steel running straight through him. They sat down in the ER waiting room never taking their eyes off the door.

Less than ten minutes later the swing door opened and a man in a pair of khaki pants, check shirt, beige cardigan and wearing a fedora hat came hurrying through. His face was like thunder.

"Is this him?" asked Tom worryingly.

"Yep, that's him! The hat gives him away." They both stood up quickly and the first thing that met them was the 'Stone glare'.

"I can hardly believe this has happened! I was only here in the ER less than two weeks ago and now I'm back in here again! Where is he? What's happening now?"

"He's in one of the bays waiting for treatment. The nurse at the desk said she'd take you in as soon as you arrived." Rick pointed towards the nurse he was referring to and Mike hurried over to her.

"Do you get the feeling he's madder than a hornet's nest right now?" Tom asked.

"Huh! Too right! I just hope Steve can calm him down," Rick answered as he watched Mike disappear from their sight into the treatment bay where a heated discussion was soon in progress.

"Mike, calm down will you. It was an accident. My hand just slipped off the crutch. It was nobody's fault. It just happened!" Steve was struggling to placate Mike. His lower lip had a dressing taped over it and his mouth was throbbing like the devil, and Mike firing off on all cylinders wasn't helping his rapidly growing headache either. "I was lucky Rick and Tom acted so quickly to catch me and save me from further injury."

"Oh, so this is lucky is it! They shouldn't have had to catch you if they'd been doing their jobs properly in the first place," Mike blasted back at him. "Were they pushing you too hard? Was that it? Or was it you? I know what you're like and I bet you were pushing yourself beyond the limits of your own endurance."

"Mike... please! Stop with the outraged anger will you! Watch my lips... oh you can't can you?" He tried to smile at his own joke but it hurt too much. "I slipped. I... just... slipped. If it was anyone's fault it was mine. I just lost my grip on the crutch. Maybe my hand was sweaty, I don't know. I just pitched forwards that's all. End of story." No way was Steve going to admit he'd been pushing himself too hard, because Mike would immediately twist it to mean Rick and Tom were pushing him too hard. It was better to stick to the story that his hand slipped. Rick was beating himself up enough, and if Steve admitted that he fell because he was so tired, Rick would assume responsibility for not being alert to his fatigue and where would that lead?

Just then the curtains opened and Dr Carr walked in accompanied by a nurse. "Well, young man, I didn't expect to see you back here so soon. Nurse here tells me my intricate needlework is required once more. Let's have a look shall we?" He nodded to the nurse who peeled the dressing off carefully. Mike's stomach flipped as he took in Steve's very swollen and blood-stained lip and the blood still trickling down his chin from the puncture wounds in his lower lip.

"Oh, Steve, you broke a tooth too!" Mike sighed. "What am I going to do with you? You're so accident prone it's untrue." He turned to Dr Carr. "The only way we can keep him safe is to hog-tie him to a chair twenty four hours a day, and even then he'd still find some way to hurt himself. This is the second time in less than two weeks he's been here, and yet he thinks he's fit enough to go home. Go home? Oh no! The safest place for him is a padded cell!"

Steve just lay back with a weary and resigned expression on his face. "Take no notice of him. I'm really not that bad," he said wearily.

"Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks. A dentist has been summoned to see you and once I've sutured it, you'll hardly have a scar. You'll need a few sutures inside as well as out though, but mouths heal very quickly. It'll be painful for a few days till the swelling goes down." Dr Carr spoke reassuringly. "Lieutenant, could I ask you to leave us please. The nurse and I have work to do."

Mike returned to the waiting room to sit with Rick and Tom. "Dr Carr is stitching him up. I'm still angry, but Steve assures me it was an accident and neither of you were to blame. I'm still sceptical but I suppose I'll have to believe him. He also says your very quick reactions prevented further damage to his leg, so I guess I should thank you for that. I expect this will probably delay his discharge and he was so looking forward to getting home."

"Possibly, but there was no injury to his leg and he wasn't due to be discharged till Monday anyway, so he still has thirty-six hours to rest up." Rick tried to sound reassuring but wasn't sure who he was really trying to convince... Mike or himself. "We have an accident report to write up for Dr Truman so, if it's okay with you, we'll leave you now and go and get on with it." And at Mike's nod they left.

Another hour passed. Mike had tried reaching Jeannie at home but had no success. He had no idea where she was other than that she said she had some shopping to do for Steve. She was due to visit with him in the evening, so he thought that would be soon enough to tell her of what had happened. Suddenly, a wheelchair was pushed out of the ER room by an orderly. Steve was sitting in it resting his forehead on one hand. He had a large dressing over his lip and chin and they were heading for the elevator.

Mike hurried to catch up with them. "Are you okay, Steve?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just want to get back to my room and rest for a while. I have a thumping headache but at least my mouth is numb for the moment," he spoke wearily. He'd had five sutures put in his lip, four inside and one continuous suture again on the outside. It had been done under a local anaesthetic which, in itself, wasn't pleasant and Dr Carr had told him that, aesthetically, it should prove to be an excellent repair in time.

Mike accompanied Steve and the orderly back up to his room. His crutches had been returned to rest by his bed and, with the aid of the orderly, Steve manoeuvred himself back onto his bed and lay back on his pillows. As Mike pulled the covers up over him, the orderly left and they were quickly joined by Liz.

"Oh dear, Steve. You poor thing. Rick told me what happened when he brought your crutches up. How do you feel?"

"Tired... sore... thirsty... and I have a thumping headache. I just want a drink please. I can still taste the blood in my mouth, then I just want to sleep if you don't mind. It's just been one thing after another today. Can I have a lukewarm tea please?"

"Sure, no problem. Do you need any pain killers?"

Steve shook his head. "No thanks, I'm topped up with morphine and local anaesthetic!"

"Okay, I won't be long." By this time evening was setting in and she closed the blinds and turned off all the lights in the room except the small over-bed light. Mike stayed a few minutes longer till she returned with the tea in a mug with a straw. First, she gave Steve a glass of warm salt water and a bowl and asked him to rinse and spit to cleanse his mouth. He wrinkled his nose up at her instruction but did as he was told. When that was done he drank the tea thirstily but very carefully as the numbness made him feel as if he was dribbling. He held a tissue under his chin as he drank and swilled the warm tea around his mouth. He drank most of it then passed the mug back to Liz.

"Thanks. I needed that."

"Well, you're all drugged up and I can see that you're very sleepy, so we'll leave you now to get some rest. I'm going off duty, but I'll tell June no more visitors this evening." Liz and Mike left the room together and Mike walked with her back to the desk.

"I haven't been able to reach my daughter and she's unaware of what's happened so, if she turns up, you may have a fight on your hands to keep her out of Steve's room. Hopefully, she'll have gone home first and I'll catch her before she leaves to come back here. Goodnight, Liz, take good care of him for me." He placed the fedora on his head and walked wearily towards the elevator.

When he arrived home in a cab it was to see his own car parked out front on the road so he knew Jeannie was home. As he entered the house she called to him from the kitchen as he moved over to his armchair and sat down.

"Hi, Mike, I've not long got back from shopping, but I got everything on the list that Steve wanted and I've stocked up his fridge and larder cupboard too. I thought we'd have a bite to eat before we head over to the hospital to visit him. Those rails you put up in Steve's shower look great. Have you been out? I thought you were going to put your feet up this afternoon." She walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a cloth and could tell just by looking at her father that something was very wrong. "Mike, what's wrong? Has something happened? Are you okay?" When she still got no reply, she spoke again this time more worriedly. "Is it Steve? Has something happened to him? It has, hasn't it?"

"Yes, but don't panic, he's okay. Try not to worry yourself too much but he's had a bad fall. I've been at the hospital for the last two hours."

"Oh, Mike, not again! Is he hurt badly? Is it his leg?"

"No, his leg's fine, thank goodness. Come here and sit down a minute and I'll explain what happened." They sat together whilst Mike explained all that had happened that afternoon and why they couldn't visit that evening. Like Mike she was initially indignant that he should've been watched more carefully, but she eventually accepted that Steve had assured Mike it was an accident.

"Well, he clearly needs to rest but I'm going in first thing in the morning, Mike."

"You and me both, Jeannie. Now what's for supper? I don't seem to have much of an appetite but, whatever you're cooking, I'm sure will tempt what's left of it." He followed Jeannie into the kitchen, pulled the chair out from under the table and sat down with a weary sigh.

The rest of the evening was spent companionably as they sat side by side on the couch and chatted. Mie took her small hand in his larger one. "It's not been much of a homecoming for you has it?"

"That's okay, Mike. I understand. It's not your fault... nor Steve's either. We still have a couple of days before I go back. Let's just enjoy what time we have together and we'll both go and see him in the morning."

Steve was up and sitting in a chair next morning when they arrived. He looked much brighter than when Mike had left him the evening before, but his eyes still looked heavy and he seemed uncomfortable. There was also visible bruising below the dressing on his chin and beginning to extend down his neck. Jeannie went straight to him to give him a hug whilst Mike sat on the foot of Steve's bed.

"Well, you look better than last night. How did you sleep?" Mike asked and his relief was plain to see.

"Not too bad. I was dosed up with painkillers and local anaesthetic and that helped until they wore off, then I had to ask for more meds. Look, I'm sorry I gave you both such a fright. It was just one of those things. One second I was up... and the next I was down. Thank goodness Rick and Tom were quick enough to catch me, so all I have to show for it is a stitched lip and broken tooth."

"What's happening about your tooth? I was told the nerve is exposed," asked Mike.

"I'm being taken up to the dental department at half past ten for an emergency appointment probably for a temporary crown, then I guess I'll have to come back again another day to get it permanently fixed."

"Does it hurt bad?" asked Jeannie.

"Yeah, like toothache!" Steve quipped but visibly winced. "Other than that I'm fine... really. Stop worrying will you. I still intend to get out of here tomorrow. A busted lip and tooth isn't going to keep me here. Rick came in earlier to check on me. He's off duty today but Tom's on so he's still taking me to the PT room for a session on the steps later. I think they're worried that my nerve might go if I leave it too long, you know, like when you fall off a horse... etc... etc."

"God forbid they ever put you on a horse, Steve! Knowing your luck it'd probably be a bucking bronco! My nerves just wouldn't stand it! You're making me old before my time, you know." Mike smiled at his partner. It never ceased to amaze him at the speed with which he could bounce back again.

"Did you get the stuff I asked for, Jeannie?"

"Yes, it's all here and gift wrapped, too, like you asked and I also picked up the other stuff you arranged," she said as she tapped the bag she'd placed on the foot of the bed.

"So, what's the big secret then? Jeannie wouldn't tell me. She said I had to wait for you to tell me yourself."

"Oh, well, everyone has been so good to me in here I just asked Jeannie to get me a few gifts. I have really nice perfumes for June, Liz and Moira and a big box of chocolates for the other nurses and staff to share here and another for up in the ICU. I asked her to choose nice conservative tie-pins for Dr Cranmer and Dr Truman and then I got tickets for the 49ers and Raiders game at Candlestick Park on Sunday for Rick and Tom and also for Walt and two of his friends. Just to say thank you, you know. Jeannie went over and collected them for me."

"Hey, how did you get those? I heard they're like gold-dust."

"Oh, I just called in a couple of favours I was owed from a guy I know who works in the ticket office there. They can find seats if they try hard enough. I remembered he once told me that they usually hold a few back. I even got tickets for you, me and Bill too. How about that, Mike?" He smiled a little lopsidedly at Mike.

"For us too, Buddy Boy? Wow! That must have been some big favour you called in. I'm sure they'll all love their gifts. What made you think of tie-pins?"

"Oh, Jeannie bought me one last Christmas and it seemed like a neat idea... you know... for an older man to wear." He laughed at the indignant look on Jeannie's face.

"I've never seen you in a tie-pin, Steve," said Mike looking puzzled.

"That's because he probably never wears it," laughed Jeannie. "For an older man indeed. How dare you, Steve Keller! I'll have you know they're very fashionable at the moment."

"I do wear it, but only on special occasions. I can hardly chase after villains wearing a tie-pin, now can I? That wouldn't do much for my street cred, would it?" And they all laughed together at the picture this conjured up. "Oh, by the way, if it's not putting you to too much trouble, Jeannie, could you get me another tie-pin for Dr Carr please. I wasn't going to get one, but it seems, at this rate, I may be seeing more of him in the future too," he smiled quite sheepishly. "And put some champagne on ice too. I'm coming home tomorrow."

"Now, you don't know that for certain, Steve, so don't get your hopes up too high," Mike counselled. "Anyway, on your meds champagne is the last thing you need. You can't stay upright as it is, without drinking alcohol."

"Oh, I'm definitely coming home tomorrow, so put some orange juice on ice then! Now for your surprise. I have a table booked for us three at Ernie's Restaurant for 7.30 tomorrow evening. It's my treat to say sorry for all I've put you through and also to thank you for all you've done for me, and will be doing for me, over the coming weeks... and there are no arguments. It's all booked. I may only be able to eat soft food instead of the juicy fillet steak I'd envisioned, but we're going and that's final. So, Mike, get that best suit pressed and Jeannie, pick out your prettiest dress. We're going on the town."

Mike was rubbing his hands together and grinning from ear to ear. "Steve, you shouldn't have but that's great. Thank you. Ernie's, eh? And it's better still because you're paying. We'll be looking forward to that... yes, sir! Right we'd better be off. Jeannie wants to catch up with a couple of her friends and I have some gardening I want to do. We'll call by later this afternoon. And, Steve... try and stay upright, will you? Dr Carr said he's running out of sewing thread!" And Mike and Jeannie quickly left him.

As Steve rested he thought at least they all had smiles on their faces. After the rotten afternoon and evening they'd all had yesterday, today was definitely a bonus.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

As the morning wore on, Steve began to feel a lot better. His mouth was still very sore, but he'd been taken to see the dentist during the morning and things had turned out really well which had bucked his spirits up no end. He'd had an X ray taken of his upper jaw the day before in the ER and the dentist was able to see that there didn't appear to be any evident damage to the root of the tooth or the underlying bone from the whack that he'd given it. As Steve was able to open his mouth wide enough to allow room for the dentist to work, he'd gone ahead and sealed the tooth and fitted a temporary crown. The permanent crown would be ready in about a week, so he just had to pop back and get it fitted and then no-one would be any the wiser that there had ever been a problem. As he left the dentist's clinic he felt much more comfortable, not just from a pain point of view, but from an aesthetic point of view too, and he no longer felt self-conscious of his broken tooth.

After his dental appointment, Tom had been to fetch Steve to take him to the PT room and he'd managed the steps up and down several times without a single problem. As Steve was about to get back into his wheelchair after the session, Tom patted him on the back.

"You amaze me, Steve. After what you went through yesterday, I thought you'd probably be hesitant or panicky about getting back on those steps again, but you approached them as if nothing had ever happened. How did you do that?"

"Oh, don't think I wasn't apprehensive because I was, but I've had so many knocks and injuries in my life, especially since I became a cop, that I've learnt to just grit my teeth and get on with it, when they're not sore of course," he laughed. "Besides, I'm determined to get out of here tomorrow and nothing is going to stop me."

"Look, I know you're anxious to get out of here, but we still have to meet with Dr Truman tomorrow and discuss your accident yesterday. In view of that, he may decide to keep you here a few days longer, just to be certain you're safe on the crutches and will manage those steps at home without a problem."

"Listen, Tom, when I want something I can be very determined and nothing and no-one, not even Dr Truman, is going to stop me from going home tomorrow. If I didn't feel well enough or confident enough then I wouldn't argue the point, but I feel fine and ready to go. I know I have the steps up to my apartment to negotiate every time I come and go, but having that fall yesterday has just reinforced how careful I need to be... and I will be. For crying out loud, don't you folks need the bed here for someone else? I'm going home tomorrow, Tom. Period!"

"Okay... okay, if you say so! Just don't rile Dr Truman for heaven's sake. Rick's told me how you have a habit of goading him. Our jobs could be on the line here you know. We still have to explain why you had that fall when you were in our care, no matter that you insist it was an accident." He paused and looked severely at Steve. "Rick and I aren't stupid, Steve. It's part of our job to know when patients have had enough and we should bring a session to an end. We've worked it out that you denied being tired and then went for that extra attempt on the steps. Your hand didn't slip. You know it and we know it. You're glossing it over to cover our backs. We shouldn't allow you to do that and, if the damage had been to your leg and not just to your face, we'd have taken the flak and wouldn't have gone along with it but, as you seem so determined to play it down and get out of here, we won't stir the pot. Just play it cool for our sakes, Steve, will you?"

Steve knew he'd been rumbled and he looked at Tom long and hard. "You're right. As Mike would say, I'm trapped by the truth. I'll admit my hand didn't slip. I was shattered, but my damn pride and stubbornness meant I was too proud to admit it. I wanted to push on and prove to you I could do it, and look where it got me. I felt I should take the blame because I knew you were worried. I'm afaid I hadn't fully considered how this could have impacted on your jobs and for that I'm truly sorry. It was my fault, no matter that you and Rick feel partly responsible, but I'll stick to my story that my hand slipped and you must too. I'll behave myself with Dr Truman tomorrow I promise... on one condition. Both of you must promise to say nothing to Mike either. What he and Dr Truman don't know can't hurt them. Anyway, it's a toss-up between the two of them which one would be the most mad," he laughed a little nervously. "Personally, I fear Mike more than Dr Truman. After all, I get to leave the good doctor behind, but I have to work with Mike. When he gets mad he's like a momma bear protecting her cubs so, unless there's a handy tree to shin up, you really don't want to upset Mike. So, do we have a deal?" He smiled slightly lopsidedly and reached forward and offered his hand to Tom who shook it in return.

"We have a deal, and for me, I don't think I'd like to wage war with either of them," laughed Tom as both men enjoyed the joke together.

"Now, I need to get back to my room. I'm hungry for my lunch. Whatever concoction Walt offers me today I'll eat it. I need to keep my strength up. There's no need for the wheelchair, Tom. I can make my own way back on my own two... correction...one... foot!"

"Are you sure? Perhaps I should accompany you back, just to make sure you get there safely."

"I'm positive. If I'm going to get out of here tomorrow I'm going to have to do everything for myself, so I may as well start as I mean to go on." And with that Steve headed down the room and out of sight.

After a lacklustre lunch, Steve asked Liz if she could find out if Moira was on duty in the ICU. When told that she was, he made his way via the elevator up to the fourth floor with a small gift bag hanging off his left crutch and another larger bag hanging from his right crutch. As he exited the elevator he walked towards the nurses' station where a young nurse was sitting.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me if Nurse Moira Lowe is available for a very quick chat please?" he asked the nurse, whose eyes flared slightly as she took in the very handsome man in front of her.

"Sure. She's on duty today. I'll just see if she's free. Do you want to take a seat over there?" She was smiling wide-eyed at him as she indicated the same row of chairs that Mike had sat on just two weeks ago as he waited for news of Steve's condition.

"That's okay. I'll just wait here if you don't mind. I sit such a lot it's good to be upright for a change," he smiled at her.

She smiled at him, then got up and walked across to the ICU ward, gave a last glance back at him, and disappeared through the doors. Looking around she spotted Moira just leaving a curtained bay and she motioned to her to come across to her.

"What is it, Sue? You're all red in the face. Are you feeling unwell?" she asked.

"No, nothing like that. There's this drop dead gorgeous guy on crutches out by the desk. He's asking for you and says he wants a quick chat with you. Have you got a secret toy-boy we know nothing about, you sly dog you?" She laughed at Moira's puzzled look. "Listen, Moira, if you can't sort him out perhaps I can help him. Gosh, what wouldn't I give for ten minutes in the linen closet with him! He's got a sore lip and a gammy leg but I'm sure we could find a way to manage!" she giggled cheekily.

"What on earth are you on about? You, young lady, need to keep your mind on your job and out of the gutter," she spoke sharply to Sue. "Can you watch Mr Tillman for me? He says he thinks he's feeling sick again. I was just going to fetch a bowl."

"Ugh! Just my luck. Yes, go on, I'll sort Mr Tillman out while you have your assignation with that gorgeous hunk out there."

Moira left the ICU ward very intrigued to see who it was that wanted to speak to her. As she approached him, she immediately recognised the young man on elbow crutches with his left leg in an external fixator who was standing a few feet away from the nurses' station, and a warm smile crossed her face.

"Hello, Moira. I just popped up to see you. Is that okay?" Steve smiled as broadly as his stitched lip would allow.

"Well, if it isn't Steve Keller. How lovely to see you again, and up and about too. You're looking well... except for your face. That's new. You didn't have that when you were in here. What on earth happened to you?"

"Oh that. Nothing to worry about. I had a fall yesterday trying to master the stairs on these crutches. It's fine. Just a few stitches. I just took a walk up here because I'm going home tomorrow, and I wanted to give you a small thank you gift for being so kind to me when I was in here. To be honest, my mind's a bit hazy about that whole period, but I do vaguely remember the care you gave me and your kindness to myself... and to Mike too." He handed her the gift-wrapped package inside a pretty gift bag. "Oh, and these are for the other staff here." And he handed over the other bag.

"Oh, Steve. That's so very kind and thoughtful of you. Thank you so much. How have you been getting on since you left here?"

"Not so bad. Well, if I'm honest, that's not strictly true. It's been rather a rocky road but I'm doing much better now. Everyone has been so kind. I'm going home tomorrow, but there's still a long way to go. I dare say I'll be a regular visitor here for a few months yet, but I'll get there... eventually."

"I'm sure you will. You're one very determined young man. I can see in your eyes that you've had a rough time of it recently but, from what I gathered when you were under my care, you're not the type to let anything beat you. You'll do okay. Thank you again for the gift and remember me to Mike will you please? He's a good friend to have in a crisis. You're lucky to have him."

"Yes, I am... very lucky. I count my blessings every day that he's there rooting for me. I won't hold you up as I know you're busy. Bye, Moira." And he leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Bye, Steve. Take care." As she watched him turn and hobble away on his crutches she touched her fingers to her cheek.

Sue crept up behind her. "I take it you were able to sort him out then, spoilsport! Wow, he's one hunk of a man! What did he want?"

"He was in ICU a couple of weeks ago and he just came up to give me a gift. Oh, and he left this too for the rest of the staff here." She handed the bag to Sue who took out a large box of Milk Tray chocolates.

"Oh my! He reminds me of the man in black who uses daring-do to deliver the chocolates... 'And all because the lady loves Milk Tray'. Didn't I say he was gorgeous? What did he give you?"

"I don't know yet, nosey. I'll open it when I get home. Now, we have work to do. Did you take Mr Tillman his sick bowl?" And she hurried back into the ICU with Sue following closely behind.

Steve took the elevator back to the second floor and returned to his room. Not many minutes later Liz followed him in.

"Did you get to see Moira?" she asked.

"Yes, just for a couple of minutes. Liz, while you're here I'd like to give you this please. I think you said it was your day off tomorrow, so I wanted you to have this before I go home. It's just a small thank you for all you've done for me." And for the next few minutes Liz and Steve chatted quietly in his room. When she left to return to her duties she was carrying a small gift bag and a larger one as well, and she had a small tear glistening in her eye. She was going to miss this very personable young man.

As Steve reclined in his chair with his book he thought he'd give Walt his gift this evening after he served the evening meal. He guessed Monday morning might be a bit hectic. Thank goodness today wasn't Walt's day off. He only hoped he wouldn't be rostered for duty next Saturday. If he was, perhaps he could swap duties with someone else and get time off for the game.

Walt was just removing Steve's dirty crockery that evening when Mike and Jeannie arrived to visit with him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Have we come at a bad time?" asked Jeannie.

"No, it's fine. I've finished my banquet. Walt's just clearing away."

"Two ticks and I'll be out of your hair, Miss," said Walt in a cheery voice as he sprayed Steve's bed table and wiped it over with a cloth.

"Actually, Walt, could you spare me a minute please before you go?" Steve asked.

"Sure, Steve. Is there something I can do for you?" asked Walt.

"No, Walt, it's more what I can do for you." He reached onto the bed locker for an envelope that lay on the top. "This is for you, to thank you for being such a great sport and keeping my spirits up while I've been in here. Some days I could cheerfully have throttled you but, on the whole, you've been a brick to me and I wanted to thank you."

"What's this?" he said as he turned the envelope over in his hand.

"Go on... open it."

Walt lifted the flap and reached inside the envelope and took out three tickets for the San Francisco 49ers versus the Oakland Raiders game at Candlewick Park next Sunday 27th October. From the look on Walt's face, Steve knew he couldn't have chosen a better gift.

"Oh, Steve. These are fantastic. How on earth did you get them? We couldn't get any for love nor money."

"Let's just say I have my sources. I took pity on you and knew I had to rescue you from Maud's church bazaar. Now you, Harry and Dave can go to the game instead. I just hope Maud's not too mad and that the 49ers don't let us down!" And he laughed along with Mike and Jeannie.

"I don't know what to say except thank you, Stevie boy... I mean Steve. Ooops... forgot myself there again. Sorry!" He cringed as everyone in the room laughed.

"You just had to let it slip once more didn't you? I'll let you off this time but... don't do it again!" Steve wagged his index finger at Walt who was beaming back at him. "Enjoy the game, Walt, and thank you." He held his hand out and Walt shook it.

"It's been my pleasure to assist you, Steve," he said and then left the room holding the tickets reverently in his hand.

"Well, I think I can safely say that went down well, don't you?" And all three of them chuckled and then sat comfortably while Steve regaled them of his visit to see Moira. After an hour of companionable chat, Mike and Jeannie got up to leave. Mike could see that Steve was looking tired and heavy eyed and the stresses of the day were catching up on him.

"It's a big day for you tomorrow and you need your beauty sleep. Jeannie and I are going to go and leave you to rest. I'm just going to say again, Steve... don't get your hopes up too high. You still don't know for sure that Dr Truman is going to let you go home tomorrow."

"Oh I do, Mike. I definitely do. I'm coming home tomorrow, and nothing is going to stop me. Jeannie, do you want to take some of my belongings home tonight that I won't need tomorrow? I seem to have amassed a load of stuff."

"Yes, that's a great idea. I'll do that" and Jeannie sorted through his locker, bagged his belongings up, and just left the bare essentials for the next day. "There you are. I'm not leaving much in there, so you'll have to come home tomorrow now. I've persuaded Mike to go into work so I'll be here in the morning to collect you."

"You mean he's trusting you with his precious car again," Steve chuckled.

"Not just my precious car, Buddy Boy... with it's precious cargo, too." Mike raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Precious cargo? What precious cargo? Oh... do you mean me? Why, you old softy, you!" Steve smirked.

"I most certainly do... and less of the 'old'. Where else am I going to get someone to type up my reports for me?"

"I thought you were using Paul... what's-his-name," queried Steve.

"Kingdom. Huh, least said there, Buddy Boy. He's not... well... let's just say he's not exactly the greatest assistant I've ever had."

"Assistant? Don't you mean partner?"

"Oh no, Buddy Boy. You're still my partner. He's just... assisting me... and filling in till you get back, which can't come soon enough for me. Heaven knows how I'm going to last out several months with him."

"What's the matter? Can't he read your writing, or can't he stomach your early morning grouchiness?" Steve chuckled at the look on Mike's face.

"My writing is fine... at least... I've never had a problem with it, and I am not grouchy in the mornings... well... not every day anyway." He lightly slapped Steve's right leg good naturedly. "Look, we'd better be off before June throws us out. All being well it's a big day tomorrow, Steve, and you need to be ready for it."

"Oh, don't worry... I'm more than ready. I'll see you later tomorrow, Mike. Don't forget our evening out, and I'll see you in the morning Jeannie."

"Just ask one of the nurses to give me a call when you're ready to leave and I'll be right over. Goodnight, babe. Sleep well." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, Jeannie. Night, Mike. Thanks for coming. Take care."

"You too, bye for now." Mike donned his fedora and followed Jeannie out of the room with one last broad grin back to Steve.

It had been a good day and tomorrow promised to be even better. He was finally getting out of this room and out of this hospital, and he couldn't wait.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Monday morning dawned fine, dry and very bright. Today was the day he was going home, and he couldn't help but see it as a huge step on this very long road he was currently travelling. As Steve got himself out of bed and onto his crutches to go to the bathroom to wash and dress, he stopped by the window and admired the gardens below with their late fall blooms. Dr Cranmer was right. It was a lovely view down over the gardens from this room. Since he'd never been in the honeymoon suite of the Fairmont Hotel he was in no position to make a comparison with the view from there, but he'd take Dr Cranmer's word for it that here the gardens were almost as lovely. He chuckled to himself as he wondered how Dr Cranmer knew anything at all about that particular suite at the Fairmont. In a few short hours he'd be leaving, never to return he hoped, although a police officer's life was not guaranteed to be a safe one and injuries could happen to any of them at any time. He thought about the risks his job entailed from time to time, but knew he wouldn't swap it for any other job in the world. Living in this beautiful city and working with Mike was a hard one to beat and he had no intentions of looking elsewhere. He was a cop through and through. Besides, what else could he do? He'd given up a law degree for a career in the police force. It was all he knew and all he ever wanted. Yes, there were risks but, if you looked for them, you could find risks in any job. On balance, Steve felt they were risks worth taking to be able to do the job he loved every day of his life.

As he continued to lean on the windowsill enjoying the view, he briefly cast his mind back to the previous evening. He'd waited till June had stopped by for her final check on him before he settled down for the night, and he'd given her the gift-wrapped perfume that Jeannie had bought for him to give her. He recalled how touched she was at his kindness. She had peeked at the package and couldn't resist the urge to open it. She was visibly touched by the beautiful, and quite expensive, Rive Gauche perfume by Yves Saint Laurent.

"Oh, Steve, that's just beautiful. Thank you so much."

"It's just a small token, June, but it's sincerely meant. I've had a few tough nights in here over the past two weeks and you've been there to talk sense into me during the darkest hours. You've no idea how much that has meant to me."

"You're very welcome. You know, Steve, some people ask me why I opt to work permanent nights and don't do shift patterns like some of the others, but I love the nights. There's the hustle and bustle of the evening to settle everyone down, and then the early morning rush to get everyone up and washed and breakfasted before we hand over to the day staff, but the time I love best is the dead of night when everyone is asleep. You see there's always that one person who's lying awake troubled for one reason or another, and maybe just in need of a friendly chat. I sometimes feel I do my best nursing during the quietest hours. Knowing I've helped you, even a little, is what makes my job worthwhile. I'm sure you'll do well, Steve. You have grit and determination and a resolute faith to succeed. I sense you have some hurdles to overcome at the moment, and I fear the next few months will test you. Your convalescence is a kind of enforced exile from the life you usually live as a normally fit and active man, but just keep telling yourself it won't last forever and you'll get through it. Sometimes life throws us all a curve ball and forces us to take time out of our normal daily lives, and I firmly believe it's done for a reason. I have no idea what that reason will be for you, but I do know you'll come out a great deal stronger on the other side because of it. Thank you for the gorgeous perfume. I'll think of you every time I wear it. Now, I think you should get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day and you need your rest to prepare you for it." She straightened the covers a little and then lightly tucked them around Steve's shoulders.

"Thank you, June... for everything. Goodnight."

"Good night and sleep well." She turned out the light and quietly left his room.

Steve was lifted from his day-dreaming as Walt knocked on his door and entered carrying his early morning mug of tea for the last time. "Are you ready for your shower, Steve?"

"Walt, I'm just about ready for anything so bring it on!" After his breakfast dishes had been cleared away, Pat popped in to tell him Dr Truman would be round to see him at about 10.00 am.

"Let's hope he signs your discharge papers, Steve. You're so fired up and ready to go I'd hate to be in his shoes if he said you weren't yet ready," she said.

"Pat, the way I'm feeling now I think I'd just sign myself out if he doesn't agree. There's nothing more any of you can do for me. It's just a long waiting game now, and it's solely down to me to make my recovery a good one and follow the rules and advice that I've been given. I'm not anticipating a problem, and I've promised Tom and Rick I'll hold my cool with Dr Truman, so let's just wait and see what he says when he gets here." Secretly Steve wished he felt as confident as he sounded.

Rick and Tom arrived first, and Steve had a little time alone with them to ask how their meeting went with Dr Truman to explain Saturday afternoon's accident.

"Well, fortunately... and amazingly... he accepted our word for it that it was simply an unavoidable accident and just a kind of slip of the wrist on your part," Rick explained. "However, he seemed to take great delight in pointing out the damage that could have been done to your leg if we hadn't been able to save you in time, as if we didn't already know! Anyway, we've told him that we think you're ready for discharge home so, fingers crossed, he's accepted our judgement."

"Thanks, guys. That's what I wanted to hear," Steve said rubbing his hands together in glee only to be held in check by Rick.

"One more thing. Steve, for your own sake, do take care and try not to push yourself too much. Remember, every mishap is a potential step backwards. Take your time and don't try to push your body to do what it's not yet ready for. That's a recipe for disaster."

"I understand and I have taken on board all you've tried to drill into me. I'll be careful, I promise." Steve reached for the envelope on his bed table. "Look, before Dr Truman comes, this is just a small token of my appreciation to both of you for all your hard work in getting me back up on my feet again." He handed the envelope to Rick. "I just hope you can make it okay."

"Make what, Steve?" said Rick as he opened the envelope and withdrew the two tickets to Sunday's game at Candlestick Park. "Oh wow, Steve. This is unbelievable." He handed the tickets to Tom to look at.

Tom seemed aghast at Steve's generosity. "Steve, this is really too much, you know, and completely unnecessary. You really shouldn't have bought these, and we can't accept them can we Rick?"

"You speak for yourself, Tom Webster. I agree it was unnecessary, and you can turn them down if you feel you must, Tom, but I'm certainly not going to. No sir... no way! I haven't been to a game for ages and this one should be brilliant. I'll have to find someone who's prepared to swap my shift with, but it shouldn't be a problem. Of course, I can understand Tom being hesitant, Steve. He's not going to want to see his team being annihilated and humiliated in defeat by the 49ers."

"I wouldn't be too sure if I were you. The Raiders are playing exceptionally well this season and they're more than a match for the 49ers. I bet we'll thrash you," Tom declared vehemently.

"Guys, much as I'm enjoying this friendly banter between you, I have to point out that I'm a 49ers fan and so is Mike and we'll be at the match too, so you two had better behave yourselves. And I'm sorry to say this, Tom, but just remember that our seats are amongst the 49ers fans, so I'd be very careful if I were you not to shoot your mouth off too loudly," quipped Steve.

"Ha ha! That'll shut him up, Steve. Just keep reminding him of that on Saturday, will you?" Rick laughed loudly.

"Just keep reminding him of what, gentlemen? Have I missed something?" Dr Truman's voice caught them all unawares as he entered Steve's room. "I could hear you three laughing as I came out of the elevator. I shouldn't have to remind you that this is a hospital and not a children's playground?" he boomed.

"No sir... sorry sir. We were just... er... reminding Steve that he needs to keep doing the exercises and he must follow your orders and do as you tell him, sir," Rick said quickly.

"Hmm! There's fat chance of that, I'm sure," Dr Truman peered at Steve. "Well, I've studied your notes and X rays, and the progress reports from these two jokers... er... I mean... therapists, and I've also been appraised of your fall on Saturday and the reasons behind it. Slightly against my better judgement, I'm prepared to accept the explanation I've been given that it was merely an unfortunate accident and not a sign that you're not yet ready to be let loose on an unsuspecting outside world, so I hope you don't prove them wrong. That lip looks sore, but you were lucky to get off as lightly as you did. Now, I'd like to examine you for myself please." Dr Truman then proceeded to poke and prod Steve's thigh, and then asked him to flex and stretch his knee several times. "Now, I'd like to see you get yourself up and out of your chair and walk up and down the corridor for me."

Steve did as he was told and made the walk up the corridor and back again nervously, but without incident, as Dr Truman watched on.

"How's your pain level, Steve?" Dr Truman asked as Steve sat back in his chair again.

"Not too bad at all, thank you. I'm maintaining purely on Tylenol now, the highest strength, but I'd like to try and reduce that soon... with your permission of course," Steve added quickly.

"Hmm. That sounds reasonable I suppose, as long as you act sensibly and don't overdo things. I think a lower dose should be feasible as circumstances allow. I'll write you up for a supply of both of the available lower strengths. Eventually I'd like you down to just the basic Tylenol but that may take a while yet. That knee is still quite swollen. I'm glad I didn't have to repair it surgically, but it will be uncomfortable for quite a while yet so just remember that."

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of that and I assure you I'll be very careful." Dr Truman stood at the side of Steve's chair and pondered for a while as he looked at Steve's notes again. Steve held his breath but his gaze never left Dr Truman's face. "Right then, all things considered I'm prepared to allow you to go home this morning. Just take care and do be careful. You absolutely must keep up the exercises to keep the muscle tone in that left leg. You'll have another X ray in four weeks and I'll see you a couple of days later in my office for a checkup. I'll get my secretary to contact you and arrange the appointments. Remember, you are to remain non-weight bearing until I assess you again and you can always contact Rick or Tom here at any time if you have any concerns and, if they can't help you, they can arrange for you to see me. Any further questions then, Steve?"

Steve heaved a massive sigh of relief. "No thank you, Dr Truman. That's all very clear. I would just like a private word with you before you go if Rick and Tom don't mind please," he said as he smiled at both of them.

"Not at all Steve. We'll see you around then. Take care," Rick said and they left leaving Steve and Dr Truman alone together.

"I just wanted to thank you privately for your absolutely sterling work to repair my leg. I know I've not been the easiest of patients and I'm aware we've knocked heads a little," he smiled as Dr Truman frowned, "but I am extremely grateful to you for getting me this far. I know I have a long road ahead of me, but I just wanted to give you this as a small token of my appreciation." He handed Dr Truman the small gift box and then held his breath as he opened it.

"Well... well... well. That is really very nice and very kind of you, Steve. It's totally unnecessary of course but... yes... very much appreciated." He took the tie-pin from the box and clipped it onto his tie. "Yes, indeed... very much appreciated. Hmm! I'd like to applaud you for your good taste, but I'm assuming someone else must have purchased this for you, so will you please thank them from me for their admirable choice. Now, while we're still on excellent speaking terms, which I must admit is unusual for us, I'll call it a day and leave you to make your arrangements to be collected. I'll see you in four weeks' time." He grinned broadly at Steve. "Good day to you and good luck, Steve." He shook hands with Steve and walked out of his room.

Steve was elated and punched the air. "YES! I'm outta here!" He waited a few minutes to allow time for Dr Truman to leave the area outside and then got himself up onto his crutches and made his way down the empty corridor to the patients' lounge and rang Jeannie.

"I'm all ready but I'm just waiting to take a cake out of the oven so I'll be over in about an hour. Can you wait that long, Steve?" she chuckled.

"I suppose I'll have to," he joined in her laughter as he put the receiver down. Just one more task to perform. He made his way back to Pat at her station.

"You look like a dog with two tails, Steve. Discharged at last. You must be happy."

"You bet I am, Pat, not that I haven't enjoyed your company and Liz's and the other staff of course, and I really do appreciate all that you've all done for me, but I can't wait to go now. Before I do, have you any idea where I could find Dr Cranmer please," he asked.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that. Do you want me to page him for you?"

"No, I'm sure he's probably busy and I don't want to disturb him."

"I'll see what I can find out for you. Just go back to your room and get yourself ready to leave and I'll be with you shortly." Steve returned to his room and packed his remaining things in his holdall and had another last check around the bathroom and his bedside locker to make sure he hadn't left anything, then he settled in his chair to wait for Jeannie.

Pat bustled into his room. "I just rang his Secretary and he's holding a clinic downstairs in out-patients. It's not due to finish till at least 1.00 pm. He's in Room 124 on the first floor. Do you want to hang around or would you rather go home?"

Steve looked at his watch. It was only 10.35 am. "I think I'd rather get off home." If he couldn't see Dr Cranmer before he left he'd write him a note and leave it and the gift with Dr Cranmer's secretary or the clinic clerk. "Could you possibly spare a piece of paper and a large envelope if you have one please?"

"Sure." She left and returned very quickly with the requested stationery.

"Thanks a lot." Steve quickly penned a thank you note to Dr Cranmer and popped it inside the envelope with the small gift box, then he sealed it and sat waiting for Jeannie.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: It's been a long time coming but here's the chapter you've all been waiting for. Steve gets to go home... at long last!

Chapter 31

The fresh air of a mid-October day swept over Steve as Walt did the honours of pushing him down to the main doors of the hospital and outside, and he breathed deeply of fresh air for the first time in two weeks. It was mild and sunny with a gentle breeze, and he took a moment to drink in the feeling of freedom that washed over him.

"How does that feel, Steve, to have all that fresh air on your face?" asked Jeannie as she stood alongside his chair, her hand gently resting on his shoulder.

"It feels good, Jeannie... very good. I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but you forget what it feels like to have a fine wind blow gently across your face when all you've breathed in is filtered air-conditioning. The constant hospital temperature too is something you never get used to either. I know it's necessary to keep sick people warm and comfortable, but I can see how the old sanatoriums favoured beds on verandahs in the open air. There's nothing quite like it. It almost makes me feel dizzy it's so good."

"Would you like me to push you to your car, Steve?" asked Walt.

"I'm not sure. How far away is it, Jeannie? Were you able to park quite close?" Steve asked.

"It's just over there." She pointed to Mike's green sedan parked not far away in the parking lot.

"Oh, that's not too bad at all. I think I'll walk thanks, Walt." Steve eased himself out of his wheelchair and onto his crutches. He reached to shake Walt's hand and thank him one last time.

"Thanks again, Walt... for everything. I'll maybe see you on Sunday, though our seats aren't that close together. Enjoy the game."

"Bye, Steve. You take care now, you hear me?" And he watched as Steve and Jeannie headed towards the parked car.

"I'll race you, Jeannie. Last one there has to wash the lunch dishes."

"Well, I hope you've got your rubber gloves handy, Steve, because you're in no fit state to beat anyone today least of all me," she laughed as she followed him carrying his bags.

They walked at Steve's slow, swinging pace towards the car and Steve took pleasure in looking around him.

"I hope Dr Cranmer gets his package without any problem," he said as they walked.

As Steve and Walt had made their way to the main doors of the hospital, Jeannie had gone on ahead to the clerk's desk outside room 124 where Dr Cranmer was holding his clinic. She left the large envelope with her to give to him when he was free.

"I'm sure he will. Stop worrying. Gosh, you're worse than Mike."

Steve laughed out loud. "No-one's worse than Mike. He takes fussing to a stratospheric level."

"That's just because he cares and you know it." She opened the front passenger door for Steve. "Do you think you'll manage in the front or would you find it easier to stretch out in the back?"

"The front's fine. It has more leg room than the back and I don't have so much problem bending my knee now." He carefully folded himself into the car. "There you are you see, no problem at all. Just don't drive too erratically. I don't want you having to suddenly do an emergency stop and flinging me forwards to hit my leg on the dashboard."

"Are you saying I'm a bad driver, Steve? I'll have you know I passed my driving test first time and I haven't had a single accident since I passed," she said indignantly.

"No, I'm not saying that at all, perish the thought! I just want you to remember you have precious cargo on board... according to Mike," he joked and laughed at the dropped jaw expression on her face.

"Precious my foot! I'm going to get you home in one piece, and if you know what's good for you you'll keep your lips buttoned and your opinions on my driving to yourself. I've driven you before and it's never bothered you."

"That's because I've never had a massive metal frame screwed into my leg before! Can you blame me for being nervous? Just be gentle with me, Jeannie... please," he replied, sweet-talking her.

"Oh, shut up and fasten your seat belt. Perhaps that will make you feel safer. Come on let's get you home."

As they pulled up outside Steve's apartment in Union Street, he looked directly ahead of him and savoured the view across the piers alongside the embarcadero to Treasure Island and it's neighbour Yerba Buena Island and the Oakland Bay Bridge across San Francisco Bay. As long as he lived he knew he would never tire of that view. It was an amazing place to live and he had never had any plans to move away. The only problem at the moment was that his apartment was on a steep hill sloping downwards and, of course, there were two flights of steps up to negotiate.

"I'm not relishing watching you get up those steps to your apartment, Steve. If it wasn't for the fact that I need to be aware and on hand if you fall, I'd just close my eyes and tell you to let me know when you safely reach your front door." She winced at the thought.

"It's a piece of cake, Jeannie. I know my way up and down them blindfolded."

"Yes, but you're not blindfolded. Perhaps I should put a blindfold on then I needn't watch. Do be careful and take your time. Don't rush it and if you get tired stop and rest."

"Stop fussing. I'll be fine. Good grief it's true what they say, 'like father... like daughter'! Let me just do it in my own way, at my own pace and in my own time and, Jeannie..."

"Yes, Steve?"

"Stop hovering. You'll make me nervous."

"I am not hovering! Oh dear, I don't like this one bit. Shouldn't I stand behind you in case you fall?"

"Look, if I fall you won't be able to stop me and I'll only take you with me, then both of us will end up at the bottom of the steps. Now, stand back and just let me get on with it will you."

Step by excruciating step Steve climbed the nine brick steps upwards. He'd been taught to hold the handrail on the right when climbing steps, but there was no handrail on the right, so he relied entirely on his crutches and rested for a minute to catch his breath when he got to the top. Then he began the ascent up the 6 wooden steps to his front door using one crutch and the handrail on the right.

"Ah ha! Done it!" he exclaimed breathlessly and proudly to Jeannie who had followed up the steps a little way behind him. "That's the first major hurdle accomplished, and it really wasn't so bad at all. Actually, I feel quite pleased with myself. I told you I could do it, oh ye of little faith!" he chuckled.

"Yes, you did, but I never said you couldn't do it, I just said I didn't want to watch. Come on, let's get you inside, if the door's wide enough to get your head through!"

His front door opened outwards and he stepped directly into his living room, stopping a moment to look around and relish the feeling of being home again. There was a vase of fresh carnations on his coffee table and a smell of polish in the air. He could tell Jeannie had been here. Everywhere was sparkling and tidy and all the cushions on his couch were plumped up.

"Home! You can't beat it. It looks great, Jeannie. I can tell you've been here from your personal touch. I hope you haven't spent the entire weekend cleaning. It really wasn't that bad you know." He saw the cringing look on her face and continued. "I may be a bachelor, but I do have certain standards and I keep the place clean... well, reasonably clean, and I like to keep it tidy... well, reasonably tidy. I do my own laundry, and I clean the bathroom and kitchen too! It was your fall break from college and I didn't want you to work yourself into the ground for me. You've been here all weekend, haven't you?"

"No, not the entire weekend... just some of it. The rest of it I spent stocking up your fridge, your freezer and your larder cupboard, and when I wasn't doing that I was out shopping for perfume, chocolates and tie-pins and... what else... oh yes, collecting tickets from Candlestick Park. Then, in my free time, I've made you a chicken casserole and a beef casserole and a lasagna and boxed them all up into individual portions and frozen them. I've left a cold roast chicken in the fridge which should last you a couple of days and, just to top it off, I've brought with me the ginger cake I made this morning and a fruit loaf I baked last night after I got home from visiting you in the hospital. If you keep them wrapped up well they'll keep for several days."

Steve looked at her. "Is that all? And there was me worrying you may have overdone it," he said facetiously. "Jeannie, you really shouldn't have done all that for me. I could've got groceries delivered. I manage okay normally, and I dare say I'd have coped this time."

"I know but, as you were so quick to point out earlier, you've never had a massive metal frame screwed into your leg before have you?" She stood her ground with hands on hips and gave him that look that was so reminiscent of her father, and Steve caved in.

"Come here," he said as he leant on one crutch and held the other arm out to her and she leaned into him for a close, but brotherly, hug. "Thank you. I mean it. You've been wonderful, as usual, and I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You're welcome Steve. I'm just thankful your discharge from hospital coincided nicely with my fall break. But, between getting you sorted and Mike too, I'll be glad to go back to college for a rest," she laughed, and then pushed herself away from him. "Now, why don't you sit down while I make us both some coffee and a cold chicken sandwich and I'll cut and butter some of that fruit loaf. When we've eaten I'll unpack those bags we brought home from the hospital."

"You do the coffee and food, but I'm going into my bedroom to unpack the stuff we brought back. I can manage that myself."

"Are you sure?" But at a wide-eyed look from Steve, she capitulated. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you to do that. Just put any dirty laundry in the laundry basket and I'll see to it before I go home."

As Steve went into his bedroom he could tell it had been cleaned and the bed made up with crisp and freshly ironed sheets. His bathroom too was spotless with all clean towels. His closet, where he kept his bed linen and towels, showed that all his laundry had been washed and replaced. He thought back to that night when he lay in hospital deliberating his feelings for Jeannie, but they hadn't changed. As Mike had often told him, Jeannie was a born home-maker just like her mother. He loved her dearly but that still wasn't enough for him. She wasn't his soul mate, and her actions and whole demeanour around him, also spoke volumes that he wasn't her soul mate either. To quote the age-old saying... they were 'just good friends'. He put his things away in his drawers, closet and in his bathroom, put the dirty laundry in the basket, as she had told him, and made a mental note to re-stock his hospital bag in case it was ever needed again. Who was he kidding?... for when it was needed again! Then he made his way to his kitchen where Jeannie was sitting at the table patiently waiting for him. It was good to be home.

Shortly after they'd finished eating, Jeannie said she had a hair appointment and a manicure booked ready for their evening out, so Steve said he would wash up then rest up for a bit before getting ready for the evening himself. Jeannie gave him a hug and left.

Some time later, he was just about to begin to get ready for the evening when his phone rang. It was Dr Cranmer phoning to thank him for the tie-pin. They chatted for a short while, then Steve replaced the receiver and made his way into his bedroom. It was as he was looking in his closet at his suits, that he realised none of the pants would fit over his frame and he would have to wear sweat pants that evening. They were hardly the right attire for a top-class restaurant like Ernie's, but he was sure they would understand and not throw him out. He teamed them with a smart white shirt, navy and silver striped tie and a navy blazer and hoped he would pass muster. He thought it prudent to wear the tie-pin Jeannie had bought him last Christmas, and he searched in his drawer till he found it. His lower half might not look too smart, but he felt he looked as good as he could from the waist upwards.

Mike and Jeannie arrived in a cab to collect him at 7.00 pm. Steve had insisted on a cab so Mike could enjoy a drink with his meal. Mike was wearing his best grey suit with a crisp white shirt and maroon tie, and Steve suppressed a smile at the sight of a hatless Mike who'd decided, before he left, that his fedora was probably best left at home this evening. Steve's eyes roved over Jeannie who looked stunning in a midnight blue, calf length, chiffon dress which she'd teamed with silver sandals and a silver evening bag. She also carried a white silk shawl.

"You look beautiful, Jeannie," he said as he admired her outfit.

"What about me?" asked Mike who was adjusting his tie and preening himself. "Don't I look beautiful too?"

"Oh yes, you certainly scrub up well, Mike," he smiled. "You both put me to shame in these sweat pants. I never thought of these when I booked the poshest restaurant in San Francisco, but it can't be helped. Come on let's go."

Steve successfully negotiated the steps back down to the sidewalk, and in a short while they were at the restaurant. A uniformed doorman showed them into the restaurant with its plush red interior and elegantly laid tables each with a red candle alight in a bowl in the centre of the table. The maitre d' greeted them and led them to a lovely table just off the dance floor. They all enjoyed a wonderful evening together with cocktails, fine food and wine, though Steve himself had very little alcohol. After studying the menu, Mike chose Beef Wellington but Jeannie and Steve both chose the seafood paella. In view of his sore mouth and temporary crown, Steve decided not to risk anything too chewy. The food was cooked to perfection and the desserts were delicious. Mike took a dreamy-eyed Jeannie on a few turns around the dance floor as the orchestra played. As Steve watched, he wished he could have danced the night away with Jeannie too, but he was content to sit and watch his dear friends enjoying themselves.

A little after 10.00 pm Mike looked across at Steve and could see he was struggling to focus and stay awake, so he decided it was time for them to leave. "It's been wonderful, Steve, a night to remember, but I think it's time we got you home." They slowly made their way through the tables to the restaurant entrance and the doorman summoned a cab to take them home. "Thank you so much for a lovely evening. I only hope the bill wasn't too staggering," he joked, as they waited for their cab to collect them.

"That's alright, Mike. It was my pleasure. You and Jeannie have done so much for me and I know you've worried yourself sick over me, yet again. It's little enough for me to do to thank you. I still have to settle up with you for all those meals you brought to the hospital for me and the newspapers and books and fruit and whatever else you brought in for me."

"Forget it, Steve. A few sandwiches and a newspaper or two are nothing. Now, let's get you home. I can see from your eyes that you're beginning to flag. It's your first night home and you need your bed. This one needs her bed too by the look of her. I think she may have had one glass of wine too many." Jeannie was standing a little unsteadily and leaning against her father as she waited for the cab.

Steve was taken home first and, under Mike's orders, Jeannie had stayed in the cab as he'd watched over Steve as he carefully mounted the steps to his apartment. Steve unlocked the front door and wished Mike goodnight and assured him he'd manage to get himself into bed. It took him some time to get himself undressed and into his pyjamas. His leg was aching badly and he was tempted to leave his clothes where they dropped just for one night, but his normally neat habits were hard to break and he forced himself to hang up his clothes tidily. Although he was awfully tired and craving his bed, he went into the bathroom, took two of his pills, then diligently carried out his pin site hygiene. When he finally got himself into bed he lay in the dark waiting for the meds to take over and for sleep to claim him. He sighed deeply. It had been a lovely evening and he was exhausted, though he hadn't liked to admit it to Mike and Jeannie. Suddenly the phone at the side of his bed rang.

"Hello, Steve Keller."

"Hi, babe, I just wanted to... to check you were okay. It was a wonderful evening wasn't it? Did you manage every... everything for yourself with...without a problem?"

Steve thought she sounded a little strange. "Yes, I had no problem. Jeannie, I told you earlier you don't have to worry about me."

"But I do... hic... worry about you, babe. How... how are you going to... to manage on your own... hic... when I go back to Azirona... Azi... Ari... zona tomorrow?"

Steve realised she was tipsy and stifled a laugh. "Jeannie, I've been putting my own pyjamas on and brushing my teeth by myself for a long time now. I can even go to the bathroom by myself too. It's surprising how well trained I am. I may have a busted leg but the rest of me works just fine."

"Oh my! Are you sure? How... how do you know the... hic... rest of you works fine… hic... Steve? Do you need help trying it out?" She tried to speak in a husky, seductive tone, but ruined it by hiccupping and then giggling.

"Jeannie Stone! I'm shocked at you! Is that what you get up to in Arizona? I think you've had one glass of wine too many, young lady, and the fresh air on the way home has sent it to your head. You'll suffer for it in the morning. Does Mike know you're phoning at this hour?" Steve was having trouble keeping a serious tone in his voice as he listened to Jeannie giggling and hiccuping on the other end of the line.

"Nope. He's all tucked... hic... tucked up and... snorrrrrring. I can hear the big galoot from here in the... hic... lounge. I had a wonderful evening, Steve. The food was... hic... ledicious and the sweets were desine... I mean... hic... the food was flidicious and..."

"Good night, Jeannie!"

"...and the... hic... sheets were plimply divine… I mean sim... hic... simply..."

"Jeannie, go to bed. Now!" He could still hear her giggling tipsily to herself. "I'm ringing off, Jeannie. Good night."

"Night, babe. It was a wonderful evening wasn't it? Shleep tight and don't... don't... let the bug beds... hic... bite. Ooops! … hic... I think I got that wrong." She giggled again.

"You are going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. Go... to... bed. Now! I'm putting the phone down!" And Steve replaced the receiver, all the while chuckling to himself at the thought of how bad Jeannie was going to feel in the morning. He was sure she hadn't had that much to drink, but clearly she wasn't used to cocktails and fine wines. He didn't fancy being Mike and having to face her across the breakfast table tomorrow morning, that's if she even made it as far as the breakfast table. He lay on his back in his own lovely comfortable bed with his left leg supported on a pillow and allowed himself to drift off, all the while echoing what Jeannie had said. It had been a wonderful evening.

Next morning Steve was already up and enjoying a coffee in the kitchen when the phone rang just after 9.00 am. It was Mike.

"Hey, Buddy Boy. Are you up? I wasn't sure whether to phone this early, but I guessed your body clock would still be on hospital hours."

"You're right with that one! I was hoping for a lie in but woke a couple of hours ago and couldn't drop off again so, eventually, I gave up and made some coffee and I'm sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper. By the way, thanks for re-starting the delivery."

"Oh, that wasn't down to me, that was Jeannie. She told them to tell the delivery boy not to just chuck it on the steps but to make sure he put it through the letter-box. Did he do that?"

"Yes, he did. That explains a lot. How is she this morning? I take it you got her home okay?" Steve decided to ask warily.

"Huh! I had a devil of a job getting her up all those steps. I was just glad it was dark and none of the neighbours saw us. I took her a coffee and woke her up but she wasn't very communicative. She was still asleep when I left for work. Do you know where I found her this morning? On the couch! I tried to get her to go back into her own bed, but she wouldn't budge so I left her there. Why she slept on the couch when I know I got her into her room last night I don't know... unless... Steve, did she phone you after I'd gone to bed?"

"She sure did. You might have known she would want to check up on me. She... er... sounded a little tipsy. She'll have one hell of a headache when she wakes up," Steve chuckled. "How about you? Have you got a headache?"

"No, I'm fine... well... maybe just a bit. It was a great evening wasn't it? We really enjoyed it. Are you okay today?"

"Mike, all I had were mocktails and one glass of wine spritzer thanks to the meds I'm on. I'm the only one of the three of us without a hangover."

Mike laughed along with him as he heard Steve laughing on the other end of the phone. "So, you did. I forgot that. Listen, I have to go. Could you phone her about noon just to check she's surfaced?"

"Sure, but I think she might be round here before that. I hope you haven't left her the car keys. She'll still be hungover."

"Ha ha! You're probably right. No, I didn't leave the keys. She can take a cab." Mike laughed. "Say, do you want to come to the airport with us this afternoon? Jeannie's on the 4.20 pm flight."

"Sure, I'd love to, if only to see you get her there safely," Steve laughed.

"Okay. We'll pick you up at about 3.30 pm. See you then and take care this morning."

"Will do. Thanks for ringing. Bye."

Steve spent the rest of the morning pottering around his apartment getting himself used to managing around the furniture. Jeannie had forgotten to take the laundry home with her yesterday, which was just as well all things considered. He was laughing again at the thought of her tipsy ramblings last night as he put his washing machine on to wash the things he'd brought back from the hospital, then he showered, did his pin care and dressed, and was just about to phone Jeannie when the phone rang just before noon.

As he answered a quiet and hesitant voice spoke. "Hello. Is that you, Steve? Are you okay?"

"Hi, Jeannie. Who else would it be when you phone my number? Yes, I'm fine. How are you feeling today?" he asked brightly knowing the poor girl must be feeling like death warmed up.

"Shush... not so loud... please. I... er... have a slight headache and an awfully stiff neck. Do you mind if I don't come over this morning? I know I said I would but if I could just rest up a bit before my flight back I'll hopefully feel a little better by then."

"Oh dear, the headache I can understand but the stiff neck? That wouldn't be from sleeping on the couch last night, would it?"

"How did you know? Oh, I suppose Mike rang to check up on you. Well, yes, if you must know I did fall asleep on the couch. I was very tired you know when we got home. Did I thank you for such a wonderful evening?"

"Yes, you did, Jeannie... several times, amongst other things you came out with last night."

"Other things? What other things? I really don't remember much of what we talked about."

"That's probably just as well. Listen, have a strong coffee, a couple of aspirin and a shower, then rest up for a bit. I'll call you again about 2.30 pm in case you drop off again. Go on, get yourself sorted. Don't let Mike catch you in that state or you'll never hear the end of it. I'll see you later. Bye." He replaced the receiver with a broad smile on his face. He really shouldn't laugh. The poor girl was suffering, but she was awfully cute when she was like that.

Steve washed up his breakfast dishes then felt he needed some fresh air and exercise. It was a beautiful morning, so he decided to venture outside his front door. He carefully descended the steps to the sidewalk and then walked slowly down the road onto the upper level of Calhoun Terrace from where he could look out and enjoy the view over San Francisco Bay. He didn't meet anyone. It was enough to just stand alone drinking in the view. He was finally home. The sun was shining, the view was spectacular, and he felt good. He looked back up to his apartment and hoped everything with his life from here on in would be on the up, literally, and slowly he made his way back. As he closed his front door behind him he felt an enormous sense of achievement and well-being. He was well and truly home.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The next couple of days were relaxing, but Steve was growing steadily more and more bored. There was only so much he could find to do in his small apartment. Apart from general housework to keep the apartment clean and tidy, once he'd showered, dressed and done his pin care and exercises, the rest of the day dragged until it was time to repeat the process before bed. Other than that, there was little to do unless he went out. He'd accompanied Mike and a subdued Jeannie to the airport on Tuesday afternoon, then Mike had picked up a pizza and they'd gone home to watch TV and just chill out. He had another walk outside on Wednesday, this time onto the lower level of Calhoun Terrace to enjoy the view, and decided to repeat the walk every day to give himself some exercise. He didn't dare walk further afield from his apartment as the hill above his home was just too steep for someone on crutches, and particularly weight bearing on only one leg. Bill had stopped in briefly on Wednesday morning to see him and to thank him for the tickets to Candlestick Park on Sunday. They'd shared a coffee together but he couldn't stay long and, as he left, Bill said he'd pick Mike and Steve up in his car and drive them to the game. It was something to look forward to. Dan and Norm also called in very briefly in the afternoon and they promised to have a proper catch-up the following week, maybe a poker evening with Lee and Bill and Mike. Other than that he watched TV, read his books, made a couple of phone calls to catch up with old friends and generally lazed about, but the boredom was beginning to get him down.

Boredom aside, since talking to Lenny he was already beginning to feel somewhat better mentally. Being given an explanation for his strange feelings and behaviour whilst in hospital, had certainly helped to put things into perspective for him and, when he felt himself getting overwhelmed by the dark thoughts that sometimes surfaced, he tried to put into practice the relaxation techniques that Lenny had taught him to do, and they certainly helped. But it was the unrelenting boredom that was getting to him more than anything else. He'd wanted to get home so badly, but he hadn't allowed for the feelings of isolation that would bring. Under normal circumstances he could be happy in his own company, especially when on his days off, but now he was being forced to spend hours on his own with no-one to talk to and, with his injury preventing him leaving his apartment easily and mixing with other people, he knew things had to change or he really would struggle mentally to accept his situation over the coming months.

With those thoughts in mind, on Thursday morning he rang the Status Cab Company as Mrs Sanchez had asked him to do, and took a cab a couple of blocks to his local grocery store to order a few things that Mr Leibowitz said he would deliver. He didn't really need anything much as Jeannie had left him well stocked up, but it was an outing and a change of scenery and someone to chat with briefly. He bought milk, fresh bread, cold meat and a little more fresh fruit to stock up his already stocked up larder and fridge. As a last thought he bought some chicken and ingredients for a stir-fry, and then hoped Mike would call round sometime soon and share it with him. Sure enough, Mike called in after work and between them they cooked up a veritable stir-fry feast laughing and joking all the time. After they'd eaten and washed the dishes they settled down to watch a baseball game on TV that neither of them was really interested in. They chatted as they watched but fifteen minutes into the game Mike got called back into work and he was left on his own again.

On Friday he again asked for a cab, this time to take him to Fisherman's Wharf and pick him up again in two hours, and he'd enjoyed a leisurely, but solitary, meal at a table overlooking the bay. He'd chatted with a few people desultorily. Most of those he met were simply interested to know about his frame. They weren't a common sight, so it sparked quite a bit of interest. He tried to keep it light without going into the details of how he broke his leg even though they asked. That part was still too raw and, since it had made the newspapers at the time it happened, he didn't want to be recognised. He had a gentle walk around the wharf and looked at the boats and the shops but otherwise, on his own, there wasn't a lot to interest him. He cast his mind back to the day he spent here with Beverly Landau almost three years ago and wondered what she was doing now. He'd meant to keep in touch with her but, like everything else, his busy work schedule got in the way and he'd lost touch. What was it he said to her again that day? It was something like... 'It's the first day of forever, and forever can start whenever you say so, as long as you have a choice.' That's what it felt like for him now. His accident had seemed like the first day of forever, the start of a long period of convalescence, and it was his choice as to how he got through it. At the moment it certainly felt like forever in front of him, unless he found something to fill his time. What to choose? What to do? That was the question. He looked over the harbour at the sun glistening on the water, and listened to the metal rings on the spinnakers on the yachts tinkling in the light breeze, and made up his mind. He made his way to a phone box and looked in his notebook for Lenny's number, and his secretary managed to fit him in for an appointment for first thing Monday morning before his dental appointment. No way could he spend the length of his incapacity and recuperation sitting on his backside in his apartment. So far both he and Mike had avoided the subject whenever they were together, but it would need to be broached at some point and soon. That decision made, when the time came to meet his cab, he was almost glad to be taken home again.

He arrived home to an empty apartment and a light depression settled on him once again. He knew he was making vast improvements in his strength and mobility, but it wasn't enough. He needed something to challenge him and to keep his mind occupied. For now, he looked at the jigsaw puzzle that Jeannie had brought over from her home and, in sheer desperation, he cleared his coffee table. He puzzled over how he would reach it from the couch then decided to lower himself onto the floor and pull the table over his legs. He spent a couple of hours sitting on the floor piecing the outer edges together, but then the phone rang, and by the time he'd struggled to push the table back and get himself off the floor and back onto his crutches, whoever was calling had rung off. He looked at the jigsaw again but couldn't face returning to it. Maybe whoever had called would ring back again, but the phone stayed silent.

By evening time he was so fed up with himself he even thought of phoning one of his past girlfriends and asking them over, but then decided that was out of the question for several reasons. Firstly, the operative word was 'past'. Whichever girl he chose to ring was probably in a new relationship and, if they weren't, then they were 'past' for a reason, and he was in no mood to try and resurrect a fizzled-out affair. No, best not to go there. Secondly, his frame was enough to scare anyone off, and he'd have to have been blind not to have seen the uneasy looks on the faces of people, particularly women, who caught sight of it for the first time through the open side of his sweat pants. In the cold light of day, and given a little time, a woman might be able to cope with it, but... when the lights were dimmed?... no, definitely a passion killer. And thirdly... was there a third reason? He hated to admit it but there was. He simply didn't feel like making the effort to go out and meet a new lady at this stage of his recovery. His fervour in that direction was definitely quelled at the moment. Oh, he had no doubt that everything was still in working order in that respect, but he would need to find a special kind of girl to meet all the criteria needed to get his mojo back. At the moment, with his frame and crutches, it was hard enough just getting to the local grocery store without assistance, let alone anything else. No, his decision was made. Unless an angel dropped from heaven right into his lap, he was calling time-out... a suspension of play... literally, and he would view it as simply another part of the 'rest and recuperation' period. He had to laugh when the thought hit him that Mike would probably come up with one of his dear old mother's 'appropriate for the occasion' sayings like, 'the longer you have to wait for something the more you'll appreciate it when it arrives', though the more he thought about it the more he realised he didn't want to give Mike any chance to comment on his love-life... or lack of it. It was best to keep quiet and hope Mike didn't notice, or else he'd never live it down.

Saturday was better. Mike came over to collect him after breakfast and he drove them to the Golden Gate Park. They walked slowly enjoying the sunshine and watched children playing and people exercising their dogs. Steve even managed to walk a little of the way around Stow Lake and they sat on a bench overlooking the water drinking in the warm sunshine as they watched the boats, before making their way home again, stopping off at Mama's for lunch. Lunch eaten there was always so good. On the way back to his apartment he thought of bringing up the subject of his boredom with Mike, but decided to leave it for the time being, at least till he'd spoken to Lenny. Mike had been so good to him calling round often to visit him and, to be fair, it was less than a week since he came out of hospital. Knowing Mike as well as he did, he knew he wouldn't countenance anything other than rest and recuperation for the moment, and he guessed it would take some effort on his part to persuade him otherwise. From his own point of view, he knew without a doubt that this inactivity couldn't go on long-term. He didn't want to argue with Mike, but he needed to take a stand, so he decided to get the weekend out of the way and start as he meant to go on on Monday. Besides, they had the game tomorrow to look forward to, and he didn't want anything to spoil the anticipation of that.

Sunday 27th October 1974 dawned bright and clear. It was the day of the 49ers v Raiders game and Steve was in good spirits. He was to enjoy time spent with two of his very best friends, Mike and Bill, and joining them would be two of his newest friends, Rick and Tom. As they drove to the game in Bill's car, they discussed the difficulty that four of them were 49ers fans but Tom was a Raiders fan.

"We mustn't rub it in with him when the 49ers win, Mike, it wouldn't be fair."

"If... they win, Steve. It's by no means certain as the Raiders have been playing well all season so far. Don't count your chickens until they're all hatched, that's what my mother always used to say," he chuckled, and Steve had to suppress a smile.

They met up with Rick and Tom just as they all took their seats. Steve looked around for Walt and managed to see him and his friends some distance away from them. At least they'd all managed to attend even though they were too far away to speak to. As Mike, Bill and Steve chatted with Rick and Tom there was some mild ribbing between them, but four against one was no match for Tom, and he took it all in good part as they all cheered their respective teams on and Tom's voice got drowned out.

And, after all, Mike was proved right. The game was one of the best they'd ever seen, but the Raiders had the edge and beat the 49ers 35 – 24. However, they didn't let it dampen their spirits after the game as they all continued on to a bar for drinks and a meal. While Mike and Bill visited the rest room, Rick and Tom were anxious to quiz Steve as to what he'd been doing all week and how he was coping, and he updated them with what little news he had.

"I'm managing pretty well around my apartment doing all the usual things, and I'm even getting out for a little exercise every day. I'm coping okay with the steps up to the apartment and have found a way to get safely up and down using the only rail I have that's on the left on the lower set of steps. I really do feel more confident having that to stabilise me."

"No more stumbles, Steve?" asked Rick.

"No, none at all. Thankfully, I'm managing to stay upright," he laughed. "My main problem is sheer boredom. I think if I had been seriously ill, I'd probably have welcomed the enforced rest at home to recuperate but, once I was over the initial operation and other minor injuries, all I was left with was a broken leg. I'm not ill as such and I feel like a prisoner in my own apartment unless someone takes me out. The inactivity and isolation is really getting me down. Like everyone, I enjoy a holiday from work occasionally and time on my own... in short bursts, but not stuck in the same apartment day after day for the most part on my own, and certainly not for the next few months. If it carries on like this I'll be a basket case before long." Although he laughed the others could sense his frustration with his situation.

"So what are you going to do? Is going back to work a feasible option? Would they even allow you to go back like that do you think?" Tom pointed to the frame and raised the subject that Steve had been thinking of himself.

"That's what I need to find out. I honestly don't know. I'm on sick leave, but they've kept me on full pay so I don't have to worry about the money, but I think I need to work for my own self-esteem and sanity. I don't like being paid for just sitting on my backside doing nothing for months on end. Since they're paying me anyway, I don't really see why I couldn't be allowed back on light duties to do basic office work, typing, filing, phones etc but just not police work out on the streets. I would need to run it by the personnel department and maybe the police union too. I guess it would have to be looked into for the legality of it all, you know, workplace health and safety. That's beginning to become very much the thing now. Years ago, no-one bothered so much but now... well... an accident at work when I'm already classed as unfit wouldn't go down well at all."

"Have you asked Mike if you could go back?" Rick asked.

"No, not yet, so please don't mention it to him. He's very protective of me especially when I'm incapacitated like this. I've made an appointment to talk to the department's consultant psychiatrist, Lenny Murchison, first thing in the morning. Because of certain issues I've had since the accident I had to see him last week, so I'll need to get his permission first to go back to work. I have to make him see that the enforced rest is aggravating my situation rather than helping it. I just hope he'll approve. Then I suppose I'll have to get Dr Truman on board, but I'll meet that problem when, or if, I come to it. There's no sense riling him if I don't have to. After I've seen Lenny tomorrow morning I have a dental appointment to get my permanent crown fitted, then I plan to go into Bryant Street to visit the guys in the office. Maybe I'll get a chance to put it to Mike then. Besides, I'm wondering if I should really speak to my Captain first before Mike, but I'd hate Mike to think I'd gone behind his back. I know what he's like and I think this will all be kind of delicate with him at the moment, so I'm just going to play it by ear until I get the opportunity to make my play. I think I'll be treading on the proverbial egg-shells when I do."

Just then Mike and Bill returned to their table so they quickly changed the subject, and soon all five men were enjoying their meal and mulling over the game they'd just watched, and other topics in general. Eventually, they called it a day and they all made their different ways home after thanking Steve once again for making it possible for them to attend the game. Steve knew he'd be catching up with Rick again sometime in the future once his frame came off, as he'd been told he would have to have more physical therapy to build up his muscles in order to get him back to full fitness. He parted with Mike at the top of his steps and, once more, let himself into his apartment, but this time it was with a somewhat lighter, and more hopeful, frame of mind.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"So, what do you think, Lenny? Are you in agreement with me that going back to work can only be of benefit to me? If you aren't, I think you'll end up reserving me a bed in the psychiatric unit before too long." Steve was holding his breath as he watched Lenny Murchison deliberating his decision. He'd spent the last twenty minutes in consultation with Lenny, and he'd explained how the boredom and loneliness of being constantly at home on his own was getting him down.

Lenny finally smiled broadly at Steve. "Whilst I think that's something of an exaggeration, to a certain point I'm also inclined to agree with you. I'm aware that you've only been out of hospital for a week but, the way you're feeling now, I don't think you would last out the full term of your recovery and rehabilitation at home. As you have so succinctly put it to me, you're not ill as such but merely have a broken leg and, for that reason, I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to return to work... as long as it is purely office based and not in an operational capacity. I think the issues you've been having with your PTSD are already showing small signs of improvement with your better understanding of the condition. However, I also feel they may be in danger of deteriorating further if you're left to brood at home and if you can't keep your mind occupied. So, for that reason, I'm prepared to speak to the personnel department and Captain Olsen this afternoon to put the case to them that you be allowed to return to work on light duties. That should give you time to speak to Mike before I do. I have the distinct feeling that he's the one you have to convince. However, if they do allow it, I still want to see you from time to time here to assess your progress with the PTSD and, if I feel you're not making significant improvement, and if I feel it is causing detriment to your mental health, then I will have no hesitation in pulling the plug on your return to work. Is that clear, Steve?" Lenny's eyes bored into him.

"Yes, perfectly clear, Lenny. I'm confident in myself that this is what I need and I won't let you down. I just have to convince the others now. I agree with you that the biggest hurdle will be Mike... but I think I can sweet-talk him round. Thanks, Lenny." And with a broad smile he got up and swung himself out of the office.

Next, Steve called a cab from a payphone to take him to the General Hospital so he could keep his dental appointment. An hour later, not only had the dentist crowned his broken tooth, but, after a quick phone call to Dr Carr's office for permission, he had also removed the sutures from his lip to save him going back to see Dr Carr. As Steve left the office, he felt he had his normal smile back again, along with his ability to eat a nice juicy steak. He salivated at just the thought of it as he called a cab to pick him up from the hospital and take him to Bryant Street.

As the cab pulled up outside the entrance to the Halls of Justice Steve's spirits lifted. He felt like he was back where he belonged. As he slowly made his way inside and along the hallway to the elevators and up to the homicide squad room on the fourth floor, he continually met other officers and civilian workers that he knew, and they wanted to chat and ask him how he was and to wish him well. What should have been a ten minute walk for him ended up taking almost an hour.

Word that he was in the building must have gone ahead of him because, as he reached the door marked 'Room 450 Homicide' and pushed it open, a cheer rose from inside the room and he entered to find every man in the office standing on his feet and clapping and cheering to welcome him back. He could hardly hear himself think as they gathered around him all talking at once. Some of them were patting him on the back and, at one stage, he was in danger of being knocked off balance. Norm grabbed him on the arm just in time and steadied him, pushing a couple of the others back and away from him.

"Hey there guys, just watch out will ya! You'll have the kid flat on the floor if you're not careful," Norm called out protectively.

"We thought you'd have bought doughnuts for us all, Steve," someone shouted over the noise.

"Why? It's not my birthday you know, and in case you hadn't noticed, I have no free hands to carry anything anyway," he laughed.

Suddenly a voice he recognised boomed over the din. "That's enough, everyone. I know you all want to see him, but just back off a bit and give him some space. Norm's right. If he goes down he could really hurt himself."

Suddenly, it was akin to the parting of the Red Sea, as the din in the bullpen died down and each of them stepped back and left him a gangway to walk through to Mike's office, passing his own empty desk with a sidelong glance on the way. As Steve cast a smiling gaze from side to side, he noticed a man at the back of the group standing by a desk further over by the wall beyond his own desk. He almost missed him as he was not easy to spot over the heads of those milling around him, but Steve did notice that he wasn't smiling. He'd never seen him before and wondered who he was. As his fellow officers all returned to their desks, he saw the unknown man take a seat at the desk in front of him, and Steve thought this must be the new officer, Paul Kingdom, brought in to temporarily replace him.

"Thanks guys. At last I can see daylight," he laughed as he swung himself on his crutches and made his way towards Mike standing outside the door to his personal office. Mike stood back as Steve moved into the room and took the seat opposite the desk as he had done hundreds of times before, then Mike closed the door with a wave to the other officers to return to their desks.

"Well, that sure was some welcome, Buddy Boy. I guess it's good to know you've been missed. How did you get on at the Dentist? Did it all go well?"

"Everything went fine," and Steve stretched his lips into a wide grin and displayed his newly crowned tooth. Looks good doesn't it? It's hard to tell it's not a normal tooth isn't it?"

"Oh, that looks great. I thought the temporary crown was good, but this looks even better, and your stitches are out too. I can see why you're pleased and I'm sure the ladies will be pleased too, Smiley." He smiled broadly, and his eyes twinkled as he used his occasional pet name for Steve that he felt, in this instance, was decidedly apt.

Steve decided not to rise to the jibe and glanced back over his shoulder at the new man sitting typing at his desk. "Say, is that your new partner, Sergeant Paul Kingdom, over there?"

Mike looked over and across Steve's shoulder. "Yes, that's him, but let's get this straight. He's temporarily helping us out, but he's certainly not my new partner. He's working mainly in the office or out on the streets with Bill or Lee, and he just comes out with me occasionally when I need back up and there's no-one else available. He's a strange one. I don't know what it is, but I just can't warm to him. He doesn't open himself up and invite friendly overtures. I think he just doesn't like it here in homicide. I'm tempted to send him back to robbery where he came from, but I'm desperate for the extra manpower here while you're off sick."

"Maybe you intimidate him, Mike. You're not an easy man to get to know. I know how scared I was of you when I first started in homicide. Your reputation preceded you, and it took me quite a while to get used to you myself," Steve said as he pretended to cower a little.

"What! That's hogwash and you know it. You were never intimidated by me. In fact, I doubt you've ever been intimidated by anyone. You certainly stood up to Dr Truman and I'm a pussy cat compared to him... or so I've been led to believe," he smirked.

"A pussy cat with sharp claws, Mike. Believe me I should know. I don't know much about Paul except what you've already told me, together with a little from some of the others but, be honest, have you really tried to integrate with Paul or have you left others to do it for you?" Steve waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. "Your silence speaks for itself. I think you should try again with him. Maybe he just needs time to come around to your way of working."

"Time! You say he needs time! Well, I don't have time, Steve, and certainly not to wet-nurse someone who should already be an experienced officer. If I hear him say one more time that 'we don't do it like that in robbery', I'll personally put my toe under him and boot him back there myself. If I get him typing up notes then he has the audacity to say he can't read my writing, and he's misfiled so many reports I've lost count." He gestured with his hand and pointed at an object on the corner of Steve's desk getting more and more het up as he spoke. "And he's using your flip... fax... filo... thingy... or whatever you call it, for phone numbers and addresses, and he even says that could be organised better. The cheek of the man! I tell you I don't like him, and the sooner he's gone and you're back where you belong, the better I'll like it."

This was just the opportunity Steve was hoping for.

"You know, Mike, I could come back and help out if you'd just say the word."

"What? Come back? Oh no, Buddy Boy, you can't come back. You're on indefinite sick leave."

"I know, but I'm not sick! I've only been out of hospital a week and I'm bored out of my brain already, Mike. I need something to occupy myself till this frame comes off and that could be months ahead."

"Didn't you hear me? You're on sick leave! Anyway, the department would never allow it. What if something happened to you while you were supposed to be on sick leave? Where would that leave the department then? Oh, no. Jeannie gave you a jigsaw, didn't she? Have you tried that?"

"How am I supposed to make a jigsaw last me the next four to six months? And anyway, I deserve better than a damn jigsaw and you know it."

"Well, try something else!"

"Like what?" Steve was trying to keep his cool but Mike wasn't making it easy.

"Well I don't know. You're the one with the college degree. You think of something!" Mike just leaned back in his chair and glared at him.

Steve knew he'd have to get the sweet-talk and reasoning out. He took a long deep breath. "Listen, Mike, I'm being paid full-pay for being sick, but I've just said... I'm not sick! I've got a broken leg and that's all. The rest of me still works okay." He suppressed a smile as he remembered Jeannie's tipsy reaction to those self-same words he'd used just a week ago. "I can just sit at my desk and type reports, make calls, file, answer phones and chase up info for the other guys. You know, just help out generally and make myself useful where I can."

"You think you've got it all worked out don't you? Well, that sounds fine in theory but you're forgetting one thing, Steve. I know you and you can't 'just' do anything. You won't be able to help yourself. Before long you'd be out of the office chasing perps half way round the Mission District if you could."

"You know, Mike, your side of the argument was going quite well till you said that! I'd have trouble chasing Bill round the desk and you know it. If I promise to stay almost totally desk-bound will you ask Rudy if I can come back... please, Mike? I can't stay tied to that apartment every day for the next... heaven knows how long. I'll end up a basket case before the month is out."

"Now you're exaggerating. The month is out on Thursday, Steve."

"Exactly! Do you want to be the one responsible for turning me into a basket case in the next four days? You may as well ring Lenny Murchison now and book me an appointment on his couch! And speaking of Lenny... er… I went to see him this morning and he... er… he kind of said he was in favour of my return to work... on a purely non-operational basis, of course. He said he'd speak to the personnel department and to Rudy too. That is... if you agree."

"Oh, you went to see him did you... before you came to see me? That's just typical! No doubt you used your excellent powers of persuasion on him to get him to do exactly what you wanted didn't you?" Mike was all fired up now and this is not what Steve wanted.

He began to wheedle. "Please, Mike. You can work your magic on Rudy, and Roy too if needed. You can twist them round your little finger and you know it. If I came back that would free Paul Kingdom up to take on proper homicide work. He probably feels you're just using him as little more than an office clerk. No wonder he's not settling in and showing his frustration. If he's come from robbery then he's no fool, but you're using him like he is one and you're not trusting him to back you up as a partner should do. I'm out of action for the foreseeable future but you're not, and you have to have someone watching your back that you can trust and, if it's not Paul, then it has to be someone else. Yes, it could be Bill or Lee, but that's not fair on either of them. They have a partnership in the same way we do, and it works for them, and it's not fair to keep splitting them up. You're palming Paul off on them instead of taking him on yourself... and that's not okay, Mike. If I'd been permanently side-lined and unable to return or, God forbid, if I'd been killed, you'd have had to take on a new partner eventually anyway."

"Don't... Steve. Please don't say that! Don't even think that! You're not permanently off the squad and you're not... well... you're not... I can't even think that word let alone say it!" Mike just sat and glared at Steve. The annoying thing was he knew Steve was right. He hadn't given Paul a proper chance. He'd taken out his own frustrations at being without Steve on Paul, and that was inexcusable.

Steve didn't dare break the silence between them. He could see the cog-wheels turning in Mike's brain as easily as if he'd peeled his skull open.

Eventually Mike's glare softened. "You're good, you know. You've managed to suss all this out, yet you haven't even been in the office for the last few weeks. You should've been a detective," he smiled and tapped the top of his desk with both hands. "You'd promise to stay in the office? No going out on the streets trying to do detective work for yourself? Could you cope with weeks... no... months... of typing, filing, and taking messages? Would you give me your solemn promise that would be the full remit of your work and you'd stick to it?"

"Mike, if it's a choice between that or Jeannie's jigsaw I'll definitely give you my word. I'll be office bound for the duration or, at least, building bound." As Mike raised his eyebrows and glared at him Steve explained, "I may have to go to the rest room occasionally. Even I don't have a cast-iron bladder, Mike."

Mike suddenly caved in. "Okay, Buddy Boy, you win. I can't deny I hate looking at that empty desk out there. Now, I'm not promising anything... but I'll speak to Rudy and Roy and see what I can do. I have a meeting with Roy in about half an hour anyway, so I'll sound him out first. Now, I have work to do so I'll leave you to visit with the others, but don't get distracting them too much. They have work to do even if you don't... at the moment," he chuckled.

Steve got up out of his chair and made his way out of Mike's office to the table where the coffee pot and mugs stood. He smiled as he saw his usual mug just sitting there unused and waiting for him. He filled the mug only two-thirds full then, holding it very carefully in just two fingers of his right hand, he made his way back to his own desk and put it down perching himself on the edge of the desk facing Paul's desk. He held his hand out to Paul.

"Hi, it's Paul Kingdom isn't it? I'm Steve Keller, as you've probably realised already from my noisy and spectacular entrance a while ago. I'm pleased to meet you."

Paul stood briefly, and the two men shook hands. "Yes, that's me. I've heard a lot about you from even before I came here. I was sorry to hear about your accident." He looked across to Mike's office and back to Steve again. "That looked like quite an argument you were having in there with Mike," Paul said. "Oh, don't worry, I couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but I could tell from the raised voices that you were having words. I hope it wasn't on my account."

"Why would you think it was on your account?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because Mike doesn't like me, and he makes no secret of the fact. Everyone knows he misses you and I'm a very poor substitute."

Steve thought about his next words very carefully. "Paul, it isn't that Mike doesn't like you. He just finds it hard to forge a partnership with anyone that isn't me. We've been partners for over three years now and... well... you could say we've worn each other in like a pair of comfortable shoes." He hoped Dan wouldn't mind him borrowing his simile. "With you, those new shoes are probably still pinching a bit."

"Probably is an understatement! I hardly ever get to use my shoes on the streets as he rarely ever takes me out with him. I seem to be tied to this office doing nothing but paperwork, and he's bitten my head off more times than I care to mention. I tell you I've darn near had enough."

"Then tell him so."

"What do you mean?"

"I know it doesn't look like it, but Mike's a softy when you know how to handle him. He doesn't mean to get on a line with you. He's just frustrated at having his orderly world turned upside down for a few months. He dislikes change and he likes having things done his way. Me being hurt like this has thrown his world into disarray. We're not just partners we're close friends too, and over the last three weeks he's worried himself sick about me, and he's run himself ragged with all the hospital visiting and the support he's been giving me, and yet he's still managed to get into the office and run this place. To a certain extent, I think he's been wrongly taking his tiredness and anxiety out on you. Believe me when I say his bark is far worse than his bite. He barks at you and bites your head off because you allow him to. He's not a bully, please don't think that, but he can be like an irascible old bear sometimes, and you have to stand up to him and give as good as you get... well... almost. Of course, you have to remember that, ultimately, he's the boss, but that still doesn't give him carte blanche to yell at you or treat you like some junior member of the team. Stand up to him and he'll respect you all the more for it. You're a far better officer than you think he gives you credit for otherwise you wouldn't be here, and you just have to show him that. Also, dare I say it, you need to remember that you're not in robbery now, you're in homicide, and this is Mike's territory. He's the best boss and partner that I've ever had... or ever will have. Paul, whether you like it or not, the powers that be have seconded you to this squad for the next few months and, as I see it, you have three choices. You can either allow yourself to be relegated to sitting at this desk as little more than an office clerk, or you can step up to where you've been appointed and get yourself accepted as a member of this team and, more importantly, as Mike's partner, or you can ask to be sent back to robbery. Personally, I wouldn't recommend the latter. You need to tough it out with him. Believe me when I say you can learn an awful lot from Mike. I'm still learning every day of my life. You just have to work your way under his skin and let him get to know the real you and, at the same time, you need to get to know the real Mike Stone."

"I never thought of it like that... him being stressed I mean. I've known about the great Mike Stone ever since I joined SFPD, but I never met him before I was posted here. Everyone more or less puts him on a pedestal and thinks he's wonderful, but I just see him as a cranky old... sorry... I mean... I just thought he must be this fractious all the time. I've wondered about your partnership and, frankly, I thought you must either be some kind of doormat... which I very much doubted... or some kind of a saint... to put up with him."

"A saint?" Steve laughed out loud. "I wish! Oh no, I don't think so, Paul, but you got one thing right... I'm no doormat either. I'm as human as the next man and so is Mike. Maybe you just need to let yourself soften a bit and try harder to fit in with him and the rest of the guys."

"You think it's that easy?" Paul asked with a frown on his face.

"No, I never said it was going to be easy, but he's not an unreasonable man. He's incredibly likeable once you get to know him, and the rest of the guys are a great bunch. I think he knows he hasn't given you a proper chance this past three weeks. Just hang fire and wait and see what happens in the next few days. I can't say any more at the moment, but don't think for one minute that Mike has given up on you, and don't you give up on him. Okay? Now, I think I've said enough, so you must excuse me while I go and catch up with one or two of the others. It was nice meeting you, Paul."

"Thanks, same here, Steve."

After hobbling around the office having a chat with several colleagues, Steve was sitting back at his own desk chatting with Bill over his shoulder when the phone on his desk started to ring. The desire to answer it was so tempting, but he didn't dare pick it up as he could see Mike's eyes were on him through the glass of the office door. No-one else dared pick it up either and the phone continued to ring. Suddenly, Mike got up and opened his door and addressed the whole office as he walked through. "If anyone wants me I'll be with Lieutenant Devitt or Captain Olsen." Before he reached the outer door, he turned around, looked Steve straight in the eye and shouted, "And will someone please answer that blasted phone!"

Steve didn't need telling twice. Whilst Mike was out of the office he took several more calls that came through on his phone and made some notes that he passed to the relevant case officers. Eventually, Mike returned and headed straight past Steve's desk to his office.

"Steve, my office, now!"

Steve raised his eyebrows and looked at a few of his colleagues then slowly got to his feet and entered Mike's office to find him looking at a couple of messages written in Steve's small, neat handwriting that were lying on his desk where Steve had left them.

"You don't waste much time do you, Buddy Boy?" he challenged Steve.

"You said for someone to answer the phone!" Steve countered belligerently.

"I did... but I didn't say it had to be you, did I?" he glared at Steve, then his face creased into a smile. "You win again, Buddy Boy. Roy raised no objection to you coming back, so he and I went to see Rudy and he called for Mary Williamson from personnel to come up to his office. We pleaded your case with her and she's going to speak to Lenny before she definitely says yes but, otherwise, she's agreed."

"Mike, that's great. When can I start back?"

"Hold your horses, Steve. There's a couple of provisos to be met. You're currently on sick leave and Mary will only accept you back with a certificate from Lenny and another from your doctor, by which she means Dr Truman not your own personal physician, to state that he's happy for you to return to work on light duties only and it has to be part-time, that's to say no more than thirty hours per week with regular breaks. You are also limited to general office duties only, such as we discussed earlier, or to any duties that I, or any other officer, request of you that fall within the remit of this office."

"By which she means what?"

"Well, maybe sitting in on any interviews with suspects and taking notes, attending post-mortems and again taking notes, visiting the lab or evidence store. Generally, the kind of things that can be reasonably expected of you considering your physical handicap at the moment. At no time are you to knowingly put yourself in any position where you could be exposed to harm. Are you happy with that?"

"Yes, more than happy. It's just the hours. I mean thirty hours a week isn't many, is it?"

"It's probably thirty hours more than you should be doing! Look, it's all you're going to get, Steve, so be satisfied. I don't care how you do them. There are a couple of options... to work five days of six hours each or four days of seven and a half hours each with two half hour break times with either. How do you feel about that? We can work out the details later."

"I guess it's okay. I mean I'm grateful they're letting me back at all so thirty hours sounds reasonable and, to be honest, I do tire easily dragging myself round on crutches all the time, so I think that sounds fair and it'll fill the bulk of my day. Thanks, Mike. You'll be preserving my sanity and I thank you for that."

"Huh! I may be preserving your sanity but who will be preserving mine?" Mike asked with a frown and Steve couldn't help but laugh.

"Did she say when I can start?" Steve asked amidst his chuckles.

"As I understand it you can start as soon as she's spoken to Lenny, and as soon as you can produce that medical certificate from Dr Truman."

"Great. I think I'll phone his secretary now and see if I can get in to see him this afternoon." He looked at his watch. "It's only just after 1.30 pm now." He got up from his seat and made his way back to his own desk to make the call. He chatted with Bill and Lee a while longer then he stood up and put his jacket on, and began to make his way to the door.

"I'll see you guys soon. Bye for now." And to a chorus of 'Byes' and 'See you soons', he left the office to go downstairs and wait for a cab to take him to the General Hospital where the secretary had managed to fit him in with an urgent appointment to see Dr Truman at 3.00 pm.

As he left the hospital a little later that afternoon, he heaved a sigh of relief. The piece of paper that he needed was safely tucked in his wallet and he'd hand it in to personnel when he went in to work tomorrow morning. He'd been expecting a tussle with Dr Truman to get it, and he wasn't disappointed.

"To be honest, Steve, when you made a request to my secretary for an urgent appointment I was anticipating a problem with your leg, so you can imagine my surprise and relief to find all you wanted was a medical certificate from me, though it's hardly what I would call a need for an urgent appointment," Dr Truman admonished him.

"Well... maybe not... but it was urgent to me, sir." Steve countered.

"That's not the point. An urgent appointment is supposed to be for a serious condition or problem that is affecting your health."

"Well it is, sir... affecting my health, sir...my mental health."

"Yes, but a mental health problem is not my concern. I deal with orthopaedics," he said frustratedly. "Oh, I give up! At this rate if anyone is going to have a mental health problem today it's going to be me! To be honest, I'm amazed you even lasted a whole week at home. I can understand your frustration at being stuck at home all day but, if I give you my permission to return, I'm hoping I can trust you to be sensible and not overdo things at work."

"I'll be careful, you have my word on that." Steve's gaze met Dr Truman's as the older man weighed his patient up.

"Very well, you may go back to work. I think part-time is sensible. It'll get you back out there again without taxing you too much. Just take care and I'll see you for your normal check-up in about three weeks. I must say I'm extremely pleased with your progress so far so... don't let me down. I don't want to see you back here in the ER because of some careless accident. After all, we know you're rather prone to them," he said with a knowing smirk.

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it." Steve looked like the cat that got the cream.

He stood up and shook hands with Dr Truman and then phoned for a cab home. When he got there he rang Mary Williamson and told her he had the medical certificate she required, and she told him he could return to work the next day. He made a drink and a sandwich, then picked up the phone to ring Status cabs to arrange for a daily cab with a morning pick-up at 9.45 am. He offered to pay for the cabs this time, but they wouldn't hear of it. For however long his convalescence lasted, and until he could drive himself again, they were adamant that they would provide the cab service for him at no charge.

So, all was set for his return to work the next day and he couldn't wait. When Mike called in briefly after work, Steve already had a dish of potato salad and a fresh salad prepared and all he had to do was throw two juicy steaks under the grill on his cooker. When Mike tried to object to putting Steve to the trouble of a meal, Steve wouldn't take no for an answer, and Mike was too tired to argue with him. As they wiped their mouths on their napkins sometime later, they were both in good spirits and agreed it was one of their best meals ever. As Mike took his leave later in the evening, Steve wasn't the only one looking forward to his return to work the next day.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

"Steve, I have to go out but I'm expecting a call back from a Tom Hastings at the DMV. I've left some questions on my desk that you'll need to ask him. Can you do that and leave a message for me please?" Bill asked as he put his coat on.

"Sure, Bill. No problem."

"Steve, I've got Mrs Piotrowski coming in with her two boys about 11.00 am to look at some mug shots from that robbery at their bakery at the weekend, but I have to go out with Bill. I've left all the details on my desk. Can I leave you to handle it please?" Lee asked as he too put his coat on and quickly followed Bill out of the office.

"Sure Lee. No problem."

"Steve, have you filed those reports I left on your desk, only I'm sorry but I need them again and I can't find them?" called Dan from the filing cabinet across the room.

"Not yet, Dan. They're still here on my desk."

As Dan came across to pick them up there was another shout this time from Mike in his office.

"Steve, have you got that extra report typed up yet on the Hennessey case? I need it for Gerry O'Brien by noon and I need to check it over before I go," called Mike from his office.

"On its way, Mike. Another five minutes."

Steve finished typing and took the report into Mike and returned to his desk. Paul Kingdom was watching Steve from his own desk where he was typing up a report of a burglary and homicide the night before. He got up, walked over to the table where the coffee pot was kept, and poured two mugs of coffee, then walked back and put one of them down on Steve's desk and stood at the side of him.

"How do you do that?" he asked Steve.

"Oh thanks, Paul. I could do with a drink. Do what exactly?"

"Multi-task like that. I thought only women were supposed to be good at multi-tasking."

Steve laughed, "It must be my feminine side coming out then."

"No, seriously, Steve. Doesn't it bother you that they're all piling this work on you and then clearing off out of the office and leaving you to it." Paul was frowning heavily as he spoke.

"No, not in the slightest. It's what I'm here for anyway... to help out with the office work and free others up to get out and about," he explained with a smile.

"I know but over in robbery, we wouldn't dream of passing our work on to others like that. Healey and Haseejian were doing it yesterday, and now Tanner and Lessing are at it today, and you've been here less than an hour."

"Sometimes officers get called out and we have to pass things over to others. You should know what it's like. It's not a one-way street, you know. I've done my fair share of it to them in the past."

"Maybe you have, but I just think they're taking advantage of your good nature and using you. They were like that with me over the past weeks till I put my foot down and told them to do their own work and leave me to do mine."

Steve looked up at him and sighed heavily. "Oh, Paul. It's no wonder you're having trouble fitting in here if that's your attitude. This was what I was talking to you about yesterday. Sit down a minute will you. Looking up at you is making my neck ache."

"Why? Are you going to give me another lecture, Steve, because I don't need it."

Steve bristled. "Not a lecture... no... just a chat. Now sit down... please. Paul, you may not have noticed but you're not in robbery now. I worked robbery for almost two years and I know how it works over there. The way they work works for them. They pair up the same as we do, but then they tend to just work within their pairs. But this is homicide and Mike has built us up to work very much more as a team, and we help each other out if we're asked, or if it's necessary. Because of that, our team is very much an integrated and cohesive one and part of that cohesion has been achieved, not only by helping each other out, but by forming friendships and being on first name terms. You know their first names, don't you?" At Paul's nod he continued, "Then use them. Even Mike has told you to call him by his first name, but I keep hearing you address him as Lieutenant. That's guaranteed to rile him."

"Well, over in robbery we don't call our superiors by..."

"Give me strength! You're not in robbery now, Paul! Can't you get that into your head? Keep bringing it up and making comparisons between the two squads is where you're going wrong, and the guys here don't like it. I know it's hard to fit in with a new squad, and I know you're finding it hard to make friends here, but you have to unwind a little and meet people half-way. They're a great bunch of guys to work with, if only you'd get off your high-horse long enough to get to know them. If not, then the next few months are going to continue to be purgatory for you."

Paul hung his head and looked down at his shoes. "I've never found it easy to make close friends, Steve."

"Well, perhaps you need to start trying harder." Steve looked long and hard at Paul. "I have an idea. Do you play poker?"

"Poker? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question will you."

"Yes, I play poker."

"Okay. Great. The last Thursday in every month is poker night for some of us. Dan, Norm, Lee, Bill, Mike, Art and myself. We usually meet at Mike's for the evening. He has a large table and plenty of chairs. We have a few beers and share a couple of pizzas. It's just a friendly get together, you know? So how about joining us for a game tomorrow night? It won't be at Mike's though, as he has too many steps up to his house for me to negotiate with this," he said indicating his leg. "We're holding it at Dan's this time as his place is on the flat. His wife's going out for the evening and she'll warn the neighbours before she goes."

"Warn the neighbours! Really? Do you get that bad?" he said sounding shocked.

"Well, let's just say it can get a bit noisy and heated when we get going, and we do tend to let our hair down a bit." Steve laughed.

"Oh, I don't know, Steve. They may not want me there."

"Well, you won't know unless you try. Please, Paul. Make the effort for once and you'll find they're really good fun out of the office."

"They're pretty crazy in the office too. Are you sure they're not too much of a rowdy bunch?"

"Of course they are, but that's what makes them fun. Come on, say yes."

"Are you sure they won't mind me joining you?"

"Not at all... as long as you leave that metal rod at home when you come."

"What metal rod?"

"The one you keep stuffed down the back of your shirt!" Steve chuckled. "What do you say?"

Paul smiled and gave a resigned sigh. "Alright, if you insist. Should I bring anything?"

"Maybe a pack of beers and some chips wouldn't be a bad idea, and come by cab, that way you can let your hair down a bit with the rest of us. We usually share a couple of cabs home again and we always use the same cab company. They're used to us crazy cops by now."

"I wonder if I'm going to live to regret this but... okay... I'll come. Thanks for asking me."

"You're welcome. If your poker face is as stiff as your normal face you may well win some money," Steve chuckled.

Paul smiled. "Well, I won't say no to that. What's the maximum table stake?"

"No more than ten dollars. We're not in it to fleece each other. Just a little gentle rivalry and a fun evening. I have to come by cab so give me your address and I'll pick you up on the way, that way we'll arrive together, and you'll feel more comfortable."

As Steve wrote Paul's address down, Mike suddenly called from his office. "Paul, if you and Steve have finished jawing, we have work to do. Come on, this is not a mother's union meeting. We've got a murder to solve."

"Coming... er... Mike."

As Mike put his coat and fedora on, Paul grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and shot out of the office after Mike with a smile and a brief salute to Steve.

Steve worked on in the office taking messages and making calls on behalf of his own work and that of others, and just hoped that all would go well between them at their poker night. Paul desperately needed to forge a bond with the others and they with him, too.

He needn't have worried. Thursday night's poker game was a great success. When Steve turned up with Paul, there were a few surprised faces to say the least but, true to their natural friendliness, the others welcomed him, and soon the air was filled with good natured laughter and jokes. Paul took a little while to settle but, eventually, after a couple of drinks and some pizza, he unwound enough to enjoy himself. He proved to be surprisingly good at poker and won several hands, and even managed to call all of them by their first names all evening. It was what they all needed. When the evening broke up, and the six of them all piled into two cabs to go home, some of them were considerably merrier than others. Steve had not drunk anything alcoholic at all, staying with soft drinks because of the painkillers he was still taking, but Norm and Bill were decidedly merry, and Steve was glad he wasn't in the same cab with them. As Mike, Paul and Steve made their way home they chatted in the cab.

"I've enjoyed myself tonight. Thank you for asking me," Paul said in the quiet of the cab.

Mike looked across the rear seat at him as they sat side by side in the back with Steve in the front. "It was good to see you let your hair down for a change. I must say it was something of a revelation, but it was good to see. I think you've finally broken the ice with us all... and not before time."

"Well, it's not something we ever..." Before he could finish his sentence two other voices chimed in.

"... did in robbery!" And they all laughed together.

"But, I'm not in robbery now and... do you want to know something?... I'm glad. I think I'm finally going to like it here with you guys."

"And that's a result!" Steve shouted out so loud, and thumped the dashboard so hard, he made the cab driver jump with the shock of it and the cab slewed slightly across the road. Whilst the cab driver tried to quell his rapid heart beat, his passengers whooped with laughter.

They dropped Steve off first and asked the cab driver to wait till they knew he had climbed safely to the top of his steps then, with a final wave from Steve, the cab drove off.

"I think things will be better from here on in don't you, Paul... for both of us?" Mike looked across at him and gently nudged his arm.

"I think so too, Mike. Steve's a wise man."

"Ha ha! He learnt it from me so what do you expect?" he laughed out loud, and Paul couldn't help but join in with him.

That evening proved to be the turning point for all of them, and the other officers in the bullpen, who weren't present at the poker game, could sense a definite change in the atmosphere.

"Steve, can you chase up the Coroner's report for me on the Gonzalez death," called out Dan as he was about to leave the office and head for a meeting with Roy Devitt next morning.

Suddenly, Paul called across the office, "That's okay, Dan. I'll do it for you. I have a few minutes to spare and Steve's busy."

"Oh, thanks, Paul... er… much appreciated," replied Dan.

Steve looked up from his typing and caught Paul's eye and they exchanged a knowing smile between them. Yes, things were definitely looking up. Paul was clearly far more comfortable with Mike and, as the pressure in the office and at home had lifted a lot for Mike, he also began to relax a lot more with Paul. Having Steve back at work was paying dividends for them all.

Later that morning Steve arrived back from the evidence store to find a note on his desk asking him to go and see Captain Olsen in his office at noon. He wondered what it could be about but none of the others seemed to know. As he later entered the Captain's outer office, Rudy's secretary told him he was expected and to go straight in to Rudy's inner office. He knocked and entered to find Roy sitting with Rudy.

"Come on in, Steve. Please... do sit down," Rudy motioned to the chair opposite his desk. "How are you coping with the return to work, Steve? Not too much for you, is it?"

"No, sir. It's actually just about right. It's enough to keep me busy but not so much that it wears me out. Managing on crutches all day can be quite tiring but, on the other hand, the exercise is good for me."

"Good... er... very good. You're the wrong type to sit around all day, isn't that right, Roy?" He cleared his throat and glanced warily across at Roy who was also looking uneasy.

"Quite right, Rudy. It just goes to prove you can't keep a good man down," Roy replied.

Steve looked from one man to the other. "Sir, is there a problem with my work, only you both seem rather uncomfortable to me? If there is, I'd rather you just get to the point and tell me outright if I'm in trouble here."

"Oh no... no trouble at all. We do have something to tell you, but Roy here is kind of worried and we're not sure how you'll react."

"Well, suppose you come right out and tell me and we'll all find out soon enough... sir." Steve was really becoming quite nervous now. What could it possibly be that was worrying his superiors so much?

"Right, well... we've heard back from the Chief of Police about the commendation that we put you in for. He considered the papers we sent in and he forwarded them to the Review Board who have decided to award you the Gold Medal of Valour for your heroic efforts that night."

"What! The Medal of Valour? The gold... Medal of Valour? Oh, I don't think so, sir. I don't deserve it. Roy said you'd put me in for a commendation, but I never expected the Medal of Valour. Oh no, sir, that can't be right. I only did what anyone else would've done and..." He caught Roy's eye just before Roy cut him off and burst into the conversation.

"Rudy, I told you he would react like this didn't I? Steve, we went all over this before when you were in hospital. It's no more than you deserve, and it wasn't just us that put in reports. The fire chief also recommended you for an award too. He freely admits there was no way they could've got to that child in time if you hadn't decided to risk life and limb to get her out yourself before they arrived. You were seriously injured in the process, indeed you were lucky not to have been killed. Now, it's been approved by the Governor of California and, I'm sorry, but there's nothing more to be said. It's a done deal."

Steve leaned back in his chair, pushed his hands back through his hair and settled them on the back of his neck. He sighed heavily as looked from one to the other. "There's nothing I can do about it...huh? What about Mike? He went into that house as well as me. He deserves a medal too."

"We don't deny Mike was incredibly brave to follow you into that house but, on his own admission, he barely got through the front door and up a few stairs. He's also been honest enough to say that he wouldn't have done that if you hadn't gone in first. He felt it was potential suicide to enter that burning house, but it was fear for your life that spurred him on. He was instrumental in getting Mr Sanchez out and, as such, he has been awarded a Bronze Medal of Valour. Does that make you feel any better?"

Steve relaxed a little and lowered his hands to his lap. "Yes, I guess so. I'm pleased for him. I'm sorry. I know it's an incredible honour but I just... well... I just feel... embarrassed and... and unworthy I suppose. I didn't think of the consequences. I just acted on instinct that's all."

"And that's what bravery is all about, Steve. You did what no-one else would have, or possibly could have, brought themselves to do. We knew you'd react like this but, believe me, Roy and I both feel you are most worthy of the honour. Now, this is not common knowledge at the moment, so please keep it to yourself for the time being until the news is officially released in the SFPD annual report in a few months."

"Does Mike know?"

"Yes, he was told earlier today about his award and yours. He's as pleased for you as we are... probably more," Rudy chuckled and then rose to his feet followed by Roy. Both men approached Steve and reached out to shake his hand.

"Well done, Steve. We're immensely proud of you and it bodes well for your future in the department too."

Steve rose from his chair and settled himself on his crutches. "Thank you, both of you. I'd better get back. I have a mountain of reports to type," he grinned ruefully.

Roy opened the door for Steve to go through and then quietly closed it and looked across at Rudy. "He's a very fine young man, Rudy. We're very lucky to have him on the squad."

"I'll second that, Roy!"

When Steve returned to the bullpen Mike was talking to Paul in his office. He saw Steve enter and make his way across to his desk. Steve looked up and caught his eye before he sat down, and Mike simply smiled, raised his right finger towards his temple and sent a brief salute to his young partner. Steve nodded and returned the salute. No words were needed between them.

Steve worked on steadily for the next two weeks. From time to time Paul would struggle somewhat with the workload. He hated attending post mortems and taking notes. As he joked to Steve... it wasn't something he had to do in robbery. So Steve, who never found post mortems easy either, accompanied him to a couple to offer support and advice. Paul also struggled with several procedures that were subtly different in homicide to those undertaken in robbery and, again, he would ask advice of Steve which the more experienced young man was happy to give. Aside from that, Steve ploughed on with the general office work which, from his point of view, was a necessary part of police work, and it was better than being stuck at home all day. It didn't push him or stretch his capabilities enough, but the interaction and camaraderie with his friends and other officers on a daily basis, more than made up for the tedium he experienced.

Steve hated to admit, even to himself, that the biggest problem he came up against was seeing and accepting Paul as Mike's partner rather than himself. Occasionally, Mike would still brainstorm ideas off Steve, but more and more both of them acknowledged that was Paul's place now. Understandably, but reluctantly, Steve had to take a back seat and suck up the feeling of being left out of the loop, though he couldn't deny that it hurt like crazy. A frequent dose of jealousy taken several times a day was a bitter pill to swallow.

The time soon came around for his six week follow-up appointment with Dr Truman. He went for an X ray of his leg two days before the appointment, then presented at Dr Truman's office in the out-patient clinic for the verdict.

"Well, Steve. It's good to see you again."

Steve shook hands with Dr Truman and then sat down. "It's good to see you, too."

"How's work going? Are you coping alright with the part-time hours and the restrictions?"

"Yes, everything's going well. I just work 10.00 am till 5.00 pm and in that I get two regular half hour breaks, so I'm not overworked. Most of it is sitting down and, whatever I do that isn't, I'm coping with well. It's occupying my mind, that's the main thing, and it gets me out every day and makes me feel useful."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now, you're six weeks from the original accident and I've reviewed the X rays and I'm very happy with your progress. There is definitely some sign of new bone formation and some degree of union, and the frame looks very stable. I'd like to examine you now if you'll pop up on the exam couch."

Ten minutes later Steve was again sitting in front of Dr Truman's desk with a certain degree of trepidation.

"That's all fine Steve. The pin sites are all healthy and the rods and pins are stable. I've just made a couple of small adjustments. How's your pain level on a scale of one to ten?"

"Oh, I guess most of the time it's about a four or five, but when I'm tired, especially by the end of the day, it'll creep up a bit. I'm still taking the lower strength Tylenol occasionally during the day, but at night I usually take two of the stronger ones to ensure I get a good night's sleep."

"Fine. Well everything seems good. I want you to have another six weeks non-weight bearing then I'll review again."

"Another six weeks? I was hoping you were going to say I could start to weight-bear now. That's a blow I wasn't expecting." Steve sounded very disappointed.

Dr Truman cast a stern eye over him. "I told you when we started this process you'd have to be in it for the long haul, Steve. I'm talking maybe twenty to twenty six weeks minimum. We're only six weeks in. You're doing exceptionally well, but do you remember what I told you at the start?"

Steve swept his hands back through his hair. "I know... I know... that I needed patience and perseverance. Well, I can't deny I'm disappointed, but I can't do anything about it. I guess I'll see you again in six weeks then," he spoke with resign as he got to his feet and steadied himself on his crutches.

"That's the way it has to be, Steve. I'm sorry but it really is necessary. However, that said, you're definitely doing everything right and you're moving in the right direction, so just hang on in there and continue as you have been doing. I can only re-iterate that I'm very pleased with your progress."

Steve left Dr Truman's office and returned to Bryant Street. He couldn't help feeling very deflated, but the more he thought about it the more he realised that he'd set his expectations for this appointment far too high. In future, he'd have to set them a lot lower, that way he wouldn't be so likely to be disappointed when he got knocked back. Everyone from Walt up to Dr Truman had told him it would take time and the sooner he accepted that the better.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: Once again, thank you all for sticking with the story and the great reviews. You're all either being very kind in support of a new writer, or you really are enjoying my first attempt. Either way, it's much appreciated. As the story moves on, I have to say I've somewhat struggled with this next part. I've checked my facts as best I can but I apologise if I've made any mistakes. US criminal law is not my strong point, so I hope it all sounds plausible. Since this was a police/crime series I thought I ought to give you a little crime to enjoy with your morning or evening coffee, so here goes! LOL.

Chapter 35

It was mid-afternoon and, as Steve entered the homicide office and moved towards his desk, he looked across to Mike's office where he could see Gerry O'Brien, the Assistant District Attorney, in conversation with Mike. He took his coat off and draped it over the back of his chair, undid his shirt cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to just below his elbows. He was about to sit down in front of his typewriter when Mike opened the door of his office.

"Steve, could you come and join us please?"

"Sure, Mike." Steve swung himself on his crutches into the office and Gerry, who had been sitting on the chair opposite Mike's desk, stood to allow Steve to sit down and perched himself momentarily on the cabinet to the side, but Mike fetched a chair from in front of Steve's desk and carried it in for Gerry to sit on placing it slightly to the side of the desk and facing Steve.

"This may take a while, Gerry, so you may as well get yourself comfortable." Although Mike spoke humorously, it was ominously without a sign of a laugh.

Mike then sat at his desk with his right foot resting on the open drawer and opened the conversation. "Gerry here wants to bring us up to date with the Hennessey case. He's already given me some of the low-down because we didn't know how long you'd be away. But before we start, how did you get on with the Doc?"

"Okay, I guess. He's pleased with everything, but I still can't weight bear for another six weeks... minimum." The way Steve spoke told Mike that Steve was disappointed.

"Well, we knew that was on the cards, Steve. At least it's progress in the right direction. Don't be too disheartened."

Steve could tell Mike was trying to placate him, but he didn't want to say anything more in front of Gerry so he let Mike's comment pass.

"Well, you haven't called me in here to discuss me and my problems. What's the news, Gerry?"

"In a nut shell... George Hennessey's started to talk. As you're already aware, at his arraignment he was being exceptionally difficult. Initially he refused to plead but, after determined prompts by the judge, he eventually pleaded not guilty. He was denied bail and, despite being well able to afford to hire an attorney, he refused, so one was appointed by the court. Since then, as you also know, we've had weeks of him saying absolutely nothing when questioned and exercising his right to remain silent, despite his lawyer's advice to the contrary. Two days ago he asked to see me, and now he's decided to talk. He's now presenting a compelling defence which will totally alter the structure and composition of his trial when it goes before the grand jury."

"What compelling defence? He's as guilty as sin. We got him bang to rights covered in the victim's blood and holding the murder weapon in his hand, which he then proceeded to throw at me missing me by mere inches. How does he expect to defend a plea of not guilty... unless he's pleading not guilty by reason of insanity?"

"No, he's not pleading insanity. He doesn't deny he was in her apartment. His story is that he claims he met Sonia Logan in a bar two weeks before. He says she gave him her address which, as we know, was a first floor apartment in a house that had been converted into four apartments. He'd visited her there on three previous occasions in the past two weeks. That would explain his fingerprints over most of her apartment, especially her bedroom, and certain hair, clothing fibres and other samples the lab was able to lift from the apartment. He said he decided to call again to see her late that evening for what he calls 'paid company'. When he got there, he claims he was almost knocked over by a man leaving by the back door in a frantic hurry. In the slight scuffle to get past Hennessey, the man dropped a knife and ran off. Hennessey's claiming he picked the knife up and, when he entered the first floor apartment, he saw Sonia Logan lying on the bedroom floor. She'd been stabbed several times. He touched her to ascertain if she was alive and, though he felt sure she was already dead, he says he still attempted resuscitation, which he claims is why he was covered in her blood. When he heard the police sirens from your car as you approached as first responders, he saw how bad it looked for him and tried to flee the scene."

"Just happening to pick up the knife again as he was leaving I suppose?" Steve interjected.

Gerry smirked, "That's exactly what he claims. He said he was so shocked by what he'd seen he didn't realise what he was doing. As he left by the back door, you, Steve, were rounding the side of the house. You confronted him, he panicked and made to run off. When you challenged him to stop he intended to throw the knife away. He maintains he didn't intend to throw it at you. It just so happened that, as he turned towards you to ascertain who was challenging him, he saw your gun and raised his hands in surrender and you simultaneously fired your gun. As you shot at him, and subsequently hit him in the shoulder, the knife flew out of his hand in your direction in a totally unintentional and involuntary reaction."

"What! Is he mad or something? How does he expect to get away with that? Unintentional and involuntary my foot! He took deliberate aim at me and threw the knife. Huh! If it wasn't so serious, it'd be hilarious! So, he's claiming it was my fault, is that it? That I shot him without sufficient grounds for doing so? Gerry, the knife left his hand before the bullet left my gun. He threw before I shot. The guy's nuts if he thinks a jury will believe otherwise," Steve spoke angrily.

"It may seem like a ridiculously wild story, but that's what he's come up with, Steve. He's also claiming that, although you did challenge him, you didn't identify yourself as a police officer and, because you weren't in uniform, he didn't recognise you as such. He's also accusing you of shooting him without giving him a chance to surrender his weapon."

"What! Gerry, I definitely followed standard procedure, I can assure you of that. Besides, we have witnesses from inside the house who heard me and can back me up that I did follow correct procedure to identify myself, and that I also told him to throw down the knife." Steve replied indignantly running his hands through his hair.

"He's maintaining they heard you through the walls from inside the apartment, but they were not actually witnesses to what took place outside. For that reason he's claiming they may have misheard what took place and misinterpreted it."

"The witnesses heard alright and we have statements to prove it."

"Yes, we do, Steve, but his defence will challenge them in court. He maintains he was in a state of shock at finding Sonia Logan dead and failed to comprehend who you were or your intentions. For all he knew you could have been the man who had been involved in the attack of Sonia Logan and, after killing her, you were now holding a gun on him. Let's go over this again. He claims he'd already been confronted by a guy with a knife and next he was being confronted by a guy with a gun. He says he was terrified and that he didn't know who you were. Faced with a man holding a gun on him he intended to throw the knife away and put his hands up in surrender, but he claims you shot without giving him a chance to surrender. As he lifted his arm to throw the knife towards you in surrender, you fired, the knife was shaken from his hand by the force of him being hit in the shoulder, and it travelled wildly in your direction."

"And with such speed and accuracy it almost hit me in the head in the process! Huh! A likely story! If that was the case, and I'm not saying it was, any involuntary action of his arm as he was hit, would most likely have caused the knife to have been thrown backwards or sideways and not directly at me with such deadly precision. If he just wanted to throw the knife away, why didn't he just drop it at his own feet? You know, his accuracy with a knife makes me think he's no stranger to using one. I'm just lucky it missed me as it did. The knife passed so close it almost took my ear off... or worse! A fraction closer and it would've been embedded in my skull! So why is he talking now? What... or maybe I should ask... who... changed his mind?"

"Ah! You're very good, Steve. I'll come back to that in more detail in a minute. I think Hennessey knew we had a solid case against him if he maintained his right to remain silent, so he's now trying to turn the case in his favour with this cooked-up version of events, accusing you of using incorrect procedures in his arrest. I don't think he's going to get anywhere with his claims, but he's exercising his right to plead not guilty. When it goes to court, you will obviously be called to testify as our main witness. As I said, we have a strong case against him. He has a history of being somewhat eccentric. He's a fairly wealthy man who finds it difficult to make and sustain relationships with women, so he consorts with prostitutes to get what he wants. He likes it rough, and if they don't give him exactly what he wants he gets aggressive. From subsequent investigations, we've found two other prostitutes who have come forward and who will testify that he's been violent with them to the point of them fearing for their safety. They were lucky he took the aggression no further than a few blows. We also have neighbours who heard Logan's screams and so called the police. You and Mike were in the immediate vicinity and were first on the scene. You, Steve, approached the back of the building whilst Mike approached the front. You both maintain you saw no-one else leave as you arrived and you, Steve, are adamant you only saw Hennessey, and no-one else, leave via the back door. You stated he was covered in blood on his hands and on his clothes, and he was carrying a knife. You identified yourself as a police officer and told him to throw down the knife. You maintain he raised his arm with the definite intention of throwing the knife at you and you fired almost simultaneously to restrain him but definitely after the knife left his hand. His aim was so accurate it missed you by mere inches and ended up embedded in the window frame right next to where you were standing. Your shot hit him in the shoulder, and he went down. I'm sorry I have to press the point but I need to be clear on this? Are you still saying that's what happened?"

Steve was getting more riled by the same repeated questioning from Gerry. Was it really necessary to keep going over it? The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Gerry didn't believe him, but he quickly dismissed it. He'd known and worked with the assistant DA for several years and they'd never had a problem before. He knew it was Gerry's job to ascertain the facts accurately so, although he was clearly rattled, he spoke with firm assurance. "How many more times do I have to say it, Gerry? Yes, absolutely that's what happened."

"And do you still maintain you never saw anyone else leave the building, Steve?"

"I'm sure I never saw anyone. If someone had left immediately before I confronted Hennessey, I'm certain I would have seen them going down the side path by which I approached the back door to her apartment. It's a narrow path with nowhere to hide, and no-one could have got past me without me seeing them," Steve said raising his voice to reinforce his words.

"But it's not impossible that someone could have got down the path before you arrived and disappeared into the surrounding neighbourhood without you seeing them, or maybe leapt over the fence into a neighbouring yard?"

Steve took a brief moment to think before he answered. "I suppose it's not impossible, but it's highly improbable. The fence is about eight feet high and there was loads of broken and discarded rubbish in front of it. Anyone leaving the scene in a hurry would have to be very agile to scale that, and without making a noise that would have alerted my attention. Mike and I were cruising literally less than two hundred yards away when the call came through on the radio. Our response was immediate. We were there in seconds. That's right, isn't it, Mike?"

"Yes, definitely. I would say there were probably less than twenty seconds between when we got the call and when we got out of the car and split up to approach the house, myself to the front and you to the rear. No-one came in my direction, and I never saw anyone till I found you standing over Hennessey lying cuffed on the ground and you standing over him reading his Miranda rights to him from a card," Mike confirmed in a strong tone of voice.

"It's still twenty seconds, Mike, that we can't be sure of. The defence will play on that," said Gerry with a worried frown.

Steve continued, "Well, what about the other evidence? What about the book that we found at the side of the bed on the bedside table? That had his prints all over it, and on the inside pages too. I suppose he's claiming he accidentally picked that up as well?"

"He has an explanation for that too, Steve," Gerry half-smiled. "He says he lent Logan the book as he thought she might like to read it. During their... ahem... meetings... he said she came across as being brighter than she seemed and she told him she liked to push herself to read unusual books."

"But it's not even a novel, it's a screen play and the only other books we found in her apartment were trashy romance paperbacks. And anyway, why would a prostitute be reading a screenplay by a five times Pulitzer Prize winner, not to mention the fact that Eugene O'Neill also won a Nobel Prize for Literature in 1936? It just doesn't add up."

Mike raised his eyebrows thinking there he goes with his confounded knowledge again. "How do you know all those facts about the book and the author, Steve?"

"What? Oh, I studied it for my English Lit course," Steve said, looking briefly at Mike, then continued. "It's very heavy going. Even the title could be classed as suggestive of what he had planned for her. Surely, 'Long Day's Journey Into Night' can't be considered normal bed-time reading for a hooker?"

"Maybe she was an educated hooker. Maybe she genuinely did want to read it. We can't discount the fact that he could have simply lent her the book."

"So what about the words highlighted in red marker pen on various pages... 'Vengeance... is... mine'? Why would he, or she, have highlighted those words?"

"He's claiming he never highlighted them, or even noticed those words but, when questioned, he said that maybe she could have just been doodling in the book. He can't offer any satisfactory explanation for that."

"What about when we searched his own house and we found a copy of the same book, along with a sales receipt from Alders book store where he had previously ordered and purchased two copies of the book? Why two copies?"

"He claims one was for himself and one was for Sonia Logan."

"But if he'd already read his own copy, why would he want another copy for himself?"

"He said he had first read it many years ago, and on several occasions since, and it was dog-eared and dirty so he threw his copy away and ordered a new one along with one for Sonia."

Steve sighed heavily, "He has a plausible answer for everything doesn't he?"

"Well, he's had several weeks to work his story out, Steve." Even Gerry seemed downcast as he looked from Mike to Steve and back again.

Steve sighed again and looked very defeated. "Yeah, I suppose he has. But after all this time of exercising his right to remain silent we're back to the same question of why has he suddenly concocted this story and changed his mind to talk? Or, as I said before, who has changed his mind?"

"Well, after weeks of silence, and to make my job harder, he's now hired Dermot Brannigan to defend him instead of the defence attorney appointed by the state."

Mike had been sitting quietly, for the most part listening to the conversation between Gerry and Steve without interruption, but now he spoke out angrily. "Well that figures. He's arguably the most expensive defence attorney in San Francisco. This isn't going to be a walk in the park, Gerry."

"No, it isn't. Brannigan has obviously persuaded him that the 'silent' avenue is not the way to go. Our case against him is too strong, so he's had to find a way to defend his actions on the night in question."

Steve cut in quickly "So he's trying to make me the patsy?"

"I'm afraid so. Look, the trial is scheduled for six weeks from now, so we have time to get our case watertight. Everything he's done till now undoubtedly points to his guilt, no matter that he thinks he can explain it all away. His attempt on your life is damning, too, and though his accusations against you complicate matters, we have the witnesses to back you up. If we can't get him for the murder of Sonia Logan, we can get him on the grounds of attempted murder of a police officer. I think he'll find it's not so easy to persuade a jury that he's innocent. But Brannigan's good... very good. He couldn't have hired anyone better."

"You can say that again," said Mike with sigh and a heavy frown.

Gerry continued. "Steve, you've been on the stand for the prosecution many times, and I'm confident that you're solid when giving evidence. Brannigan will have a tough job to break you down and I, for one, am as certain as I can be that he won't succeed."

"Well, let's hope not. That's all I need on my record... a proven accusation of not following correct procedures in identifying myself, or of not offering him a chance to surrender before I took him down."

"I've told you, that's something I'm confident we can prove with the witnesses, so don't let that get to you, Steve. He's going down, or my name's not Gerry O'Brien. I just need to tighten up the case and dot all the i's and cross all the t's. We'll have meetings prior to the trial to go over the case and both your testimonies, especially yours, Steve. Preparation with you will be the key. In the meantime, you just carry on getting yourself fit and well and... don't worry! In the light of Hennessey's allegations, Rudy will probably want another report from you, but I'm as sure as I can be that we're watertight. I must be off now. I just came to update you on everything first-hand. Bye for now." Gerry got up and left the office leaving a dumbfounded Mike and Steve behind.

Steve was the first to speak with exasperation as he pushed his hands back through his hair in the familiar gesture that told Mike he was riled. "Can you believe the nerve of the man? First he alleges I didn't identify myself as a police officer, when I have two witnesses who said they clearly heard me do so, then he claims he didn't intend to throw the knife at me, then he claims I shot first before he had a chance to surrender." He raised himself from the chair slowly and positioned himself on his crutches ready to go back to his own desk. As he was about to leave the room he turned back to Mike and spoke again with a dejected air. "You know, Mike, I never thought I would hear myself saying this, but I almost wish I'd shot to kill instead of just to wound and apprehend him, but at the time I first saw him, although he was covered in blood, I thought I was just being threatened by a man with a knife. I didn't know there was a dead woman in the apartment. We now know he killed Sonia Logan, but a clever lawyer like Brannigan could just get him off and drop me right in it."

Mike got up and moved to Steve's side, placed his right hand on his shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. "No, you don't, Buddy Boy. You've never knowingly shot to kill if there was a viable option to take a suspect down any other way. It's not your job, or in your nature, to mete out justice like that. Having said that, if you had shot to kill, I don't think anyone would have blamed you. It was self-defence. He was armed with a knife and his arm was raised ready to throw it at you. I think you showed remarkable restraint, not to mention accuracy, to shoot to wound and not to kill. Don't forget, Gerry's right. He has a strong case against him and he's an excellent lawyer himself. Brannigan won't find it a breeze to get Hennessey off. Try not to let it get to you. You're solid on what you saw and what you did. If Rudy wants another report we'll give him one. It's all standard procedure and nothing we haven't gone through before." Mike looked long and hard at his young partner, who was showing marked signs of stress and tiredness. He moved his hand up higher to the back of Steve's neck and gently rubbed it in a gesture usually guaranteed to soothe the younger man. "Look, I think you've had enough for one day. Why don't you head off home and watch some TV... or maybe even have another go at Jeannie's jigsaw! Anything to help you switch off and relax." He smiled at Steve who he could tell was so worked up he needed to get out of the office and cool off. He didn't need or deserve this, especially coming so soon after his recent injury and the PTSD diagnosis.

"No, it's okay. I... er... was going to finish typing up those notes you gave me."

"Hang the reports for once. They can wait. They'll still be there tomorrow morning. Go on... go home! That's an order, Inspector," he chuckled. "I tell you what. How about I call round later? I'll pick up a bowl of Luigi's lasagna, like I did before when you were in hospital, and we can both enjoy it together. Perhaps you can toss up a salad to go with it. I just have to finish up here. Let's say about 6.30-ish."

"Okay, Mike, if you're sure. Thanks. It's been a long day and I think we both need to unwind a little after what Gerry just told us. I'll see you later." Steve rolled his sleeves down and put his jacket on without first fastening his cuffs, which was a clear indication to Mike of just how rattled he was. Normally impeccably dressed, Mike could see how that simple gesture just went to prove how the afternoon's revelations had annoyed and unsettled his young partner.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: This next chapter begins to move Steve towards the crux of my story. Phew! It's only taken me thirty six chapters to get there! Again, I have to say I've researched as much as I can but it's been difficult, so I also have to admit that there is probably a lot of poetic licence from here on in. If it doesn't sound plausible then I'm sorry, but it is just a story, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it for what it is.

Chapter 36

The next couple of days had Steve struggling with his anxiety once again. He'd allowed himself to get very rattled by the meeting with Gerry but, over a bowl of Luigi's lasagna later that evening, Mike had talked the case over with him and managed to make him see sense and he'd finally calmed down. It was so unlike Steve to allow something like this to shake him, and it was clear to Mike that events since the night of the fire, had rocked his normally stable world. Now the Hennessey case was just adding fuel to the proverbial flames... another fire they didn't need. Rudy had asked Steve to provide a further report simply to reassert his earlier statement of the events that took place on the night of the Hennessey arrest, but he saw no need for further action to be taken. Witness statements clearly backed Steve up. It was now left to Gerry to put forward the prosecution case in court.

At Mike's suggestion, Steve arranged another meeting with Lenny Murchison where he explained that he was, once again, under considerable stress and finding it a struggle to stay positive. The night prior to his appointment had spooked him when he'd been disturbed by a nightmare again... not of the night of the fire this time, but replaying the incident with Hennessey. Lenny listened intently and talked him through several stress management techniques. He'd also decided to start Steve on a low dose of a benzodiazepine medication called Diazepam, in the hope that it would ease his anxiety. At first Steve was against the use of medication, but when Lenny explained he intended it for short-term use only, he capitulated. Although he left Lenny's office still feeling worried, he was now feeling more hopeful of his ability to control and cope with his anxiety.

It crossed Lenny's mind to wonder if Steve's PTSD was presenting a significant barrier to his ability to work, but Steve assured him that quite the opposite was the case. In fact, it was the time spent at work that was helping him the most. The last thing Steve wanted, or needed, was to be forced to take time off work only to sit at home and brood. Lenny agreed to go along with Steve's request to continue to work, but decided to speak to Mike on the quiet in an effort to ascertain how he was really coping. After chatting privately with Mike later that morning over a coffee in the canteen, Lenny was reassured that Steve was coping well with the mundane office work. Though the work was basic and very necessary, and Steve could do it standing on his head, it was also keeping Steve occupied and making him feel useful at a time when he desperately needed to feel his input to the squad mattered. Mike also stressed that the interaction with his work colleagues was vital to keeping him grounded. As they chatted, both men felt that maybe what Steve really needed was a change of scene. Holidays, for Steve, were usually action packed and, at the moment, the sheer logistics of arranging for him to go on any kind of holiday with his physical disability, meant that was out of the question, even supposing that Steve would be willing to go. No, something else was needed... but what?

The answer came a few days later from quite an unexpected and unlikely source. Steve was feeling quite a lot calmer and more self-assured as the new meds were beginning to kick in. He was on his way back from the lab when he was stopped by Paul Kingdom as he exited the elevator on the fourth floor. Paul reached forward and held the lift for a moment as he spoke.

"Oh, Steve, Mike's been looking for you. He's in with Captain Olsen and he wants you to go straight there."

"Any idea what it's about, Paul?" Steve asked as he turned to make his way along the corridor.

"No, sorry. I'm on my way out to get a late lunch and I was just asked to tell you if I saw you." Paul entered the lift and pressed the button for the first floor.

"Okay, thanks. I'll make my way there."

As Steve swung himself on his crutches along to the Captain's office, he presumed he'd been summoned regarding the Hennessey case. As he went into the outer office, he was greeted by Rudy's secretary as she looked up from her desk. "Hi, Steve. You got the message then? You can go straight in. They're waiting for you," she said with a smile.

"Thanks, Laura." He moved across her office and knocked on the door to Rudy's office. When he heard Rudy's voice telling him to enter, he slowly made his way in. Three men were already seated in the office... Rudy, Mike and another man in a Captain's uniform that he immediately recognised as Jonas Lyle, Captain of the Police Academy. There was another empty chair slightly to the side of Rudy's desk but facing the others.

"Please come in, Steve. Sit down and join us. You know Captain Lyle of course," said Rudy.

Captain Lyle stood and smiled at Steve. He reached towards him and offered his out-stretched hand and Steve leant heavily on one crutch as he shook the Captain's hand and then took the proffered chair.

"It's good to see you looking so well, Steve. That was some rescue you accomplished a few weeks ago. Very brave of you I must say, but I was very sorry to hear you'd been so badly injured. I also heard you'd been very altruistic about it and insisted on coming back to work as soon as you could. I'm sure Mike appreciated your determined efforts to get back to as near normal as possible under the circumstances."

"Oh, there was nothing altruistic about it, Captain. My desire to be allowed back was born out of a desperate need for self-preservation and a fierce desire to protect my own sanity. Basically, after a week at home, I was almost climbing the walls with boredom. The thought of months of the same was what drove me to almost beg to be taken back. Thankfully, Mike and Captain Olsen agreed and here I am."

"And are you happy with the role you're undertaking at the moment, Steve? I mean, general office work must be hard to adapt to after an active life on the streets. Spending your days typing reports for others and chasing up enquiries is hardly what you've been used to."

Steve wondered what Captain Lyle was getting at. Clearly, he must have some hidden agenda to talk to him in this way, but Steve had no idea what it could be. He was beginning to feel a little bothered, which became obvious to the others as he spoke again with the merest hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Well, it's a case of needs must at the moment, Captain. It was either that or spend six months at home twiddling my thumbs or doing jigsaws, so it was no contest really. Yes, it's basic work that I'm doing, but I like to think it's still valuable work, and I'm getting satisfaction from helping the other guys out. Believe me, I'm more than happy to help out where I can."

"Yes, of course, of course. I'm not trying to belittle what you're doing, Steve, far from it. In fact, I applaud you for it. I can think of many who would have just sat back and enjoyed their long-term paid rest and recuperation. Knowing you from your days at the academy, it doesn't surprise me that you decided otherwise."

"Thank you, Captain. Excuse me for asking, but is there some particular reason why I've been summoned here this morning?" Steve asked. He looked across to Mike, but Mike's face was giving nothing away.

"Yes, there is and, with Captain Olsen's permission, I'll do my best to enlighten you."

"Oh, of course. Yes, Jonas, do go ahead. Be my guest," Rudy said as he stretched his arm out towards both Steve and Captain Lyle.

"For some time, some of my senior training officers at the academy, along with myself, have been thinking of ways to try to update our training techniques. One of the ideas that we're very interested in considering is to introduce a pilot scheme whereby a current serving officer takes on the role of... shall we say... a kind of personal tutor and friend... to the cadets. This is to give the cadets a specific person that they can go to for personal advice away from the constraints of their regular trainers. Someone they can chat to for friendly advice, and to discuss any problems they may have with regard to any difficulties they may be experiencing with the course, or maybe even with regard to anything else in their personal situations that may be affecting their ability to cope with their training. As you will remember from your own period at the academy, any concern that is either realised by a trainer or raised by a cadet, automatically goes down on a cadet's record and may be taken into account in any future decisions that are made regarding their time as a cadet, or in any future placement within the police department. This can make them hesitant to bring up any problems. We're now looking to introduce a more informal approach for cadets to be able to voice any concerns."

"Forgive me for asking, but do you mean a kind of personal nursemaid come snoop for them, Captain, because, if you do, I'm not sure I'm the man for the job?" Steve was finding it hard to understand exactly what the Captain was aiming at and what was expected of him.

Captain Lyle was somewhat taken aback at Steve's forthright attitude. "No, certainly not a nurse maid, not at all, and most definitely not a snoop. Shall we say more of a friendly contact within the academy with no strings attached."

"With respect, it still sounds like a nursemaid to me, Captain."

"Please allow me to continue in more detail, Steve, as there's another avenue we wish to explore that I haven't explained to you yet. Every intake of cadets follows a set training course with pretty much pre-set tutorials. It's tried and tested, and it works well, but the system hasn't been radically overhauled in a long while. Some of us are beginning to see the training course we use as rigid, and possibly somewhat jaded and inflexible, in the light of modern policing. We favour someone, like yourself, talking to the students in an informal classroom or group setting where they would get to discuss things like certain policing strategies such as role-play scenarios and interview techniques, and every day problems they may generally encounter on the streets and how best to overcome them, not from a tried and tested manual, but from the point of view of a currently serving officer. This is the mid 1970's, Steve. It's a time of great flux and change not only in the fabric of society, but also within the police department. The academy needs to change with the times, and we need to bring it up to date with more modern training techniques. The old techniques have served us well in the past, but we want to bring a more human aspect and understanding into their training. Every one of us is a human being with human concerns and human frailties and that includes the cadets. As a general rule, cadets fall into a certain age-group and we want someone of a similar age to convey to the cadets that it's understandable that they will experience concerns from time to time. The key is to be able to recognise them, cope with them and react accordingly in day to day policing scenarios. Basically, I suppose what we want is for them to be able to interact informally with a dedicated police officer who works the streets of San Francisco every day, and to learn what it's like direct from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Many of our trainers are former police officers who have moved over from active duty for one reason or another. From the point of view of theory and the practice of the law, they are absolutely excellent at what they do. However, some of us feel that, as an academy, we are in danger of becoming detached and losing touch with modern day policing from the sharp end of policing... the officer on the ground's point of view. Am I making myself clear, Steve. It's not a nursemaid we want but a guide and helpmate to the personal aspects they can expect to encounter."

Steve had listened carefully to what the Captain had outlined, but now he felt the need to speak out. "May I speak freely, Captain?"

"Of course, Steve. This is an informal meeting and you can say whatever you wish without reservation. Anything you say will go no further than the four of us."

"Thank you, that's good to know. Most of what you've mentioned is already covered by the academy courses and trainers. I can understand why you may want to modify and … er... humanise... it a little more, but do you really need to bring someone in from outside the academy to achieve that? After all, most of the trainers there are former police officers, and they've been through it all themselves in their time in the department. Granted most are of an older age-group, but I'm sure they're not that old that they've forgotten what life on the streets is like. I'm puzzled as to how it will work in practice. Is this a permanent position within the academy that you're aiming to create and, if it is, are you offering it to me, because if you are, you can forget it, sir? I may be injured, but I'm hopeful of almost a complete recovery and I'm not ready to call it a day yet and be put out to pasture." Steve hoped he didn't sound as ruffled and indignant as he felt.

"No, Steve, it wouldn't be permanent. It would merely be for the next few months of your recovery until you are able to return to normal duties. I understand you were told you would be out of active service for maybe up to a total of six months... or possibly longer to reach full fitness. This would be a pilot scheme and you would be our first pilot... so to speak. Once you are able to return to normal duties, and if the scheme proves a success, we would then look for another officer to assume the position you had vacated. Sadly, there are officers who are being injured every day in the SFPD but, like yourself, many have an injury that merely incapacitates them from active duty temporarily, but doesn't necessarily prevent them from carrying out a near normal daily life otherwise. Currently, most of these injured officers are off work on full or reduced pay, but are not able to give anything back to the department whilst they're signed off as unfit. If this pilot scheme works, we could offer such a position to other suitable officers, like yourself, on a short-term basis."

Mike felt the need to step in here. "Captain, may I be allowed to say something please."

"Of course, Mike, any input from you is welcome."

"You're assuming that Steve would be excellent in this position, and I'm sure he has the qualities needed and would be more than capable of fulfilling the role you are offering. However, that's not to say other temporarily incapacitated officers would be able to offer the same quality of support to the cadets as you're hoping Steve may be able to do. From personal experience as his partner, I know that Steve has an innate ability to foresee problems and to interact with people on their level when needed, and to help them find a solution to those problems. He has a remarkable empathy with those that have been the victims of crime, and yet he's also able to remain objective and detached sufficient to do his job. Many police officers have those talents, but not necessarily in the quality or quantity that would seem to be necessary to carry out the task you're expecting of them at the academy."

"You're right of course, Mike. But you're forgetting that I said many police officers are injured and incapacitated every year. Sadly, that's a fact of life and a hazard of the job, but it also gives us a reasonably large pool of officers to choose from and of whom we can ask to consider a temporary post at the academy. Of course, some will want to sit their recovery out and that's their prerogative, but I believe there are many dedicated officers who would be only too happy to keep their minds active during their convalescence by taking up such a position. As I have explained, this is a pilot scheme. Nothing has been definitely decided yet, and nothing is written in stone for the future at this stage."

Steve spoke out again. "So, this brings me to ask the obvious question. This pilot scheme, Captain. Why me? You must have been thinking about this for some time, so you could have picked any injured officer to be your guinea-pig. So, I'm asking... why me?"

It was at this point that Steve caught the merest hint of a look that passed between Mike and Captain Lyle. Steve looked directly at Mike who then cast his eyes downwards, and Steve's suspicions were immediately raised.

Captain Lyle had also caught that look between them and was anxious to defuse trouble before it began. "Why not you, Steve? We have to pick someone to be our guinea pig, as you so succinctly put it, so why not you? You have a tried and proven track record as an excellent police officer, and you are our chosen man for the job." Yet again he gave an almost imperceptible glance at Mike that Steve was quick to catch.

"Has Mike been involved in this? Has he put you up to this?" Steve asked sharply looking from one to the other. "He has, hasn't he? He can't resist getting involved in the planning of my life. What's the matter, Mike? Isn't it enough for you that I fetch and carry for you all day and type your reports for you. You want to ship me sideways into a comfortable niche out of the way. Is that it? Huh?" Steve knew he was having trouble keeping his cool and was in great danger of being disrespectful in front of his senior officers.

"Steve... please... don't take it like that! Now you know I don't feel that way at all. What you're currently doing is invaluable to the efficient running of the homicide squad, and you know I thoroughly appreciate everything you do. You're aware I was at a department planning meeting the other day aren't you? Well, I met up with Captain Lyle there and the subject of your injury was brought up in conversation. Believe me, he was the first to bring it up, not me. The Captain outlined his thoughts for the scheme and asked me if I thought you might be a suitable candidate for their proposed pilot scheme, and I had no hesitation in telling him I felt you would be an excellent choice."

"So you knew about this but didn't see fit to tell me." Steve's belligerence was plain for all to see.

"Because it wasn't my place, Steve! Let me explain. Your sharp intuition has once again twigged that I've been involved, but you've got the wrong end of the stick. Captain Lyle came to me. I didn't make the first move. You must allow me the chance to explain how and why I think this would work. You're a remarkably bright officer, Steve, and it's no secret that the powers that be see a very bright future for you within the department. As Captain Lyle said, you could have been one of those officers that just accepted his sick pay and then sat out his recovery in comfort but, typically, you're not like that. You want to work for what you earn and, even when you're seriously injured, you refuse to just sit on your backside and let others run around after you. What you're doing at the moment is more than worthwhile, but it's not challenging enough for you. We can all see that. This position that Captain Lyle is offering is not instead of working in homicide, it's as well as. The two positions would run side by side."

"Well, I'm sorry if I misunderstood your motives, but nobody told me that, Mike. I thought I was being side-lined for the duration." Steve was trying to sound contrite, but he could sense Mike was not happy with the way he was taking all this by the way he raised his voice.

"Nobody told you because you never gave us a chance! One whiff of being moved out of the office and you jump to the conclusion it's because I don't want you when, in fact, the opposite is the case. To say your talents are wasted doing what you're currently doing is not exactly what I'm trying to say, but it's close. You know I consider your role in homicide to be invaluable whatever form that takes, but you are capable of so much more and you know it. I don't want you spending the next few months in front of a typewriter or shuffling papers for the sake of others, when I know you have the capability to help with this pilot scheme. When Captain Lyle spoke to me the other day and privately mooted the idea he was considering for the academy, I knew you would be perfect for the job and so, yes, I agreed when he put your name forward. I did it for you, Steve. You have approximately another four to five months of enforced restricted activity, and then some considerable period of physical therapy after that to get you back to full fitness. Don't tell me the idea of counselling young cadets doesn't appeal to you as a challenge, because I've seen you in action in that way and I know just how good you are at it." He was thinking of Steve's recent involvement in the turn around with Paul Kingdom and Steve could sense it.

"Mike's right, Steve," chipped in Captain Lyle. "We're not offering you the position purely to side-line you or to prevent you from getting bored, and I want to make it clear that we're not offering it to you because Mike put your name forward. There was a reason why I sought Mike out and approached him at that planning meeting. We've followed your career over the years and we'd already earmarked you as the type of candidate we needed to help us. When we heard how badly you'd been injured it seemed like fate. We've been looking for the ideal candidate and then it just so happened to coincide with your injury. Now, dependent on how this pilot scheme works out, you will be in an excellent position to play an instrumental ground-floor role in helping us to design a blueprint for the future of the academy. You can't deny that would be a challenge for anyone. Is that sufficient explanation for you? How do you feel about it? Would you like to agree to join us or would you like more time to think about it?"

Steve looked long and hard at Mike before averting his eyes and looking towards Captain Lyle. "I guess I was rather hasty in what I implied and I apologise. I guess being out of action has found me on shaky ground and a little touchy about where I belong at the moment. It all sounds very interesting and intriguing when you put it like that, but I'm sorry Captain, I can't make any decision that quickly. I need more time to digest all you've said and to think about all this. I'm a police officer not a teacher, and I'm not sure if I could even handle the post you're offering."

"Of course, I totally understand you need time. We've had months to think about and plan this, and I've sprung it on you suddenly. If you need more information to help you reach a decision just ask. And we're not specifically looking for a teacher, just someone who can interact with cadets on common ground at their level. There would be no set course work to follow or formal testing or exams or anything else like that."

"Well, that's a relief! One thing I need to know is this. Mike said it wouldn't be instead of, but it would be as well as, my current job. How would that work?"

"The three of us have discussed this and, if you're in agreement, we'll put the idea to personnel. They've currently said you can work thirty hours per week part time. We propose you work two days a week at the academy and the rest back in homicide doing what you do now. We're thinking maybe six hours with us from 2.00 pm till 8.00 pm twice a week. There are three intakes of cadets per year, so at any one time we have basic, intermediate and advanced cadets. You would hold an hour long... we'll call it a tutorial for want of a better word... with each class twice a week in the afternoon. The exact details have yet to be fully worked out, but space will be created within their timetable to allow for this. You would have freedom to discuss any topic of policing that you wish to raise with them, or that they may wish to raise with you. As long as it lies loosely within academy guidelines and policy, we would allow you free-rein with them. You would remain after the tutorials for a few hours, and you would have an office to work from where you would make yourself freely available for private consultations or counselling with any cadet that wishes to speak to you after their afternoon classes are finished. These tutorials would not count towards their final marks, and any private sessions would be just that... private. No entries would be made on their records, unless something came up of vital importance that we would need to be made aware of, and only then would it be done so in strict consultation with you and the cadet. The whole success of the scheme relies on the fact that they have to feel they can trust you to be in their corner."

Steve considered what had been said by both Mike and Captain Lyle. Mike was right, as usual. It would be good to get away from the mundane duties in the office and have his capabilities challenged and stretched, and it would be an excellent opportunity to leave his mark on the future training of police officers in the SFPD. He was still hesitant though, and needed time to mull the proposal over. He decided to ask for Rudy's opinion.

"You've been very quiet through all this, Captain Olsen. Do you have any opinion on this proposition? Ultimately, I'm under your command here, so I'd value your input on this."

"Oh, I'm on board with all that's been discussed, and I'm happy for you to be seconded to the academy for the next few months. However, it will be with one proviso... that you return back to us when you're fit. The last thing I want is for you to like working there so much you want to remain there permanently. Now, a lot has been said and there's a great deal for you to think over. I just feel I ought to say that I think it's a great opportunity for you and, who knows, it could also prove to be a spring-board to other unknown avenues in the future for your career. Go away and think about it. It's Tuesday now. Suppose we all meet back here on Thursday at 11.00 am and you can give us your decision then. And, Steve... it's your decision. Don't feel pressured into doing something unless you genuinely feel it's what you want. I can guarantee a negative decision won't affect your standing here in homicide."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. Very well, gentlemen, I'll give you my decision on Thursday." And with that Steve stood and shook hands once more with Captain Lyle, and slowly made his way out of Rudy's office with Mike closely on his heels.

Mike reached out and touched his shoulder briefly. "Steve, we need to talk about this." Mike couldn't hide his anxiety that Steve still considered he'd gone behind his back.

Steve didn't meet Mike's eyes as he replied, "Yes, we do, Michael, but not here and not now. I need some time to myself. There's so much to think about and I won't be able to concentrate in the office, so I'll take myself off for a while. I'll … er... give you a call later."

Steve turned away from Mike and slowly made his way to the elevator to head downstairs and outside. He needed to get out of the building into the fresh air, and he needed time to think. He called a cab from the payphone in the entrance lobby, and decided he'd make his way to the viewpoint high above the Golden Gate Bridge. It was an excellent place to get fresh air and time to himself.

As Steve left, Mike was left standing outside Rudy's office and thinking to himself... he's still angry with me... he called me Michael.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

The cab dropped him off and Steve asked the driver to pick him up again from the same spot in a couple of hours. He made his way over to one of the benches overlooking the bridge. As long as he lived, he knew he would never tire of this view that took his gaze across the straits connecting San Francisco Bay with the Pacific Ocean. The sky was so bright and sunny today that he could see clear across to Marin County to the north and across to the infamous Alcatraz island to the east. It was always windy up here and, despite the warmth of the day elsewhere, the wind cut through him and he pulled up the collar of his beige raincoat and nestled into it. Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he sat for a while and just drank in the peace and beauty of the view but, eventually, his mind turned purposefully to the events of the previous weeks and especially to the proposal that had been put before him today.

He thought back over all that had been said that afternoon. He knew he'd been angry and unnecessarily hard on Mike when he'd as good as accused him of wanting rid of him. Where on earth had that thought come from? Of course, he didn't want to side-line him from the office. It was only natural that Mike would want what was best for him and that's why he had supported Jonas Lyle in his offer to Steve. He tried to put himself in Mike's shoes. His friend had only ever wanted to help him, and he'd realised Steve was currently doing little more than marking time in his present position. Mike knew his young partner almost as well as he knew himself, and it was clear to him that Steve was uneasy in his life right now and simply making the best of a bad situation that had turned his normally ordered life upside down.

Steve had been injured before, but this injury was so much worse than any of the other times, and it was more than enough for him to cope with without the PTSD as well which was just complicating and clouding things so much. He knew he had a long period of convalescence ahead of him and, though he knew he was using the time to make himself useful to the other officers in the squad, of necessity he was limited to work that was well below his capabilities. He'd told himself so many times it was only for a few months, he could stick it out, and there was light at the end of the tunnel... even if it was in the far distance. If he could just carry on as he was doing, eventually he'd get his life back and his position as Mike's partner. That's what he wanted more than anything. It was those damn feelings of jealousy, fuelled by the anxiety of the PTSD, that ground into him. He knew Mike needed a partner in his absence, and he accepted he'd been the one most responsible for pushing the two of them together to make that partnership work, but he would hear Mike call for Paul to accompany him on a call out, or even on routine enquiries, and he couldn't deny it cut him to the quick and made him wish it was he who was following Mike out of the office. Jealousy wasn't a feeling he was used to, and it was something he neither liked nor was proud of, but seeing Paul partner Mike day after day hurt... it hurt so bad. He knew Paul would never take his place in Mike's private life, but at work... well... who knew? Without a return to full fitness, it was a distinct possibility.

Steve knew he had to be realistic. There was no absolute guarantee that he would ever be fit enough to return to active duty, and then what would he do with his life? There was no way he wanted to get shunted off to the academy as a permanent post but, temporarily, it was appealing more as a viable option. If he could make a go of it, it would be another string to add to his bow, and would look good on his resumé if he ever had to look for other work. Other work! Work outside the police department! Not to be a cop anymore! Suddenly his stomach began to churn with a sick, panicky feeling. Where were all these notions coming from? He was thinking way too far ahead of himself. Damn the PTSD! He needed to slow his thoughts down. He tried to remember what Lenny had taught him to do to calm himself and suppress the negative thoughts that were swirling in his brain. There was no need to go there at all. He just needed to close his eyes, and breathe deeply and evenly to calm himself and relax and let his irrational fears and anxieties fall away from him. He let the peace and quiet wash over him and slowly he settled.

After a few minutes he was able to resume his thinking more rationally. He'd been told by the medics that he was almost certain of a near total recovery, so why question it now? Deep down, he knew this was something he needed to consider and face up to. If he was being totally honest with himself, he'd had these doubts from day one of the accident. No matter what anyone said to the contrary, his recovery wasn't one hundred per cent guaranteed. He knew he couldn't return to active duty on the streets with less than full fitness, and that was the crux of the matter. This was from where his doubts, his insecurities and his fears stemmed. This was what was making him edgy at times with the people around him. He could suppress that edginess most of the time, but with Mike it was different. With Mike, he could hit out and say things he didn't mean, knowing that his friend would understand and forgive him. Mike knew it wasn't the normal Steve talking. He knew it was the anxiety and the fear coming out, and Steve knew that, no matter what, Mike would always understand. But in no way was that fair. Lashing out at Mike and then expecting forgiveness and understanding was not good enough. He needed to stop doing this to his friend. How many times since the accident had this happened? The answer stared him in the face... too many. Well no more. Whatever happened in the future was his own responsibility and no-one else's. It was up to him to map out his own future, whether it was in the department or out of it, and no-one else was to blame for it if it went wrong... certainly not his dearest friend. Somewhere, hidden amongst the turmoil his life was currently in, was his old self, and finding that person was the key to getting his life back on track. He had to accept all the help he was given whether it be from Lenny, Dr Truman or the physical therapy team, and he would get there. He was as certain of that as he could be. Mike was standing in the wings waiting for him and he wouldn't... he couldn't... let him down.

He turned his thoughts to the position at the academy. These proposed changes had clearly been under consideration for a while, and common sense told him no-one had come up with this proposition simply to help him out of a fix. Captain Lyle had plans for the future of the academy and, if he didn't take up the offer to help with this pilot scheme, someone else would. The ideas that he'd broached were to be considered as part of new strategic planning for the academy, and it was Steve's chance to get in right at the grass roots of those plans, and maybe leave his mark on the academy for future cadets. He turned it over in his mind, and the more he thought about taking the position, the more the idea grew on him. It really was a wonderful opportunity for his career and one that he should feel honoured to have been offered. It was also one that he'd be a fool to turn down. It would stretch and challenge him and help to take his mind off his own problems by shifting his focus onto helping the academy and helping the cadets too.

Mindful of his current injury and the PTSD, and in view of what had been laid out as the initial idea behind the scheme, he had to ask himself if the added pressure might prove to be too much for him at this present time? Did he feel he could adopt the mantle of a temporary personal tutor and do justice to the trust and faith that was being put in him? Clearly Captain Lyle and Mike, and even Rudy, thought he was capable of what they were asking, but did he feel that way himself? Well why not? He wasn't arrogant or conceited... at least he hoped he wasn't... and if someone was going to carry out this job then why shouldn't it be him? He was as good as the next man. He'd gone through the academy just the same as every other officer in the SFPD. He'd finished almost top of his class, and he'd advanced rapidly through the ranks to where he was now, and he knew for a fact that hadn't been achieved by being given a helpful leg-up here and there, or by being on the receiving end of favouritism. He was level headed and modest enough to know that he'd got where he was today by his own fortitude, ability and sheer hard work. He was also sensible enough to realise that he needed to be mindful of his own health and well-being. If the work at the academy, together with the work at the bullpen, began to prove too much for him, he hoped he would have the foresight to recognise and accept that fact, and be prepared to step down from one or the other. Common sense told him that his health, both physical and mental, had to come first.

As the sun was disappearing behind the clouds and the afternoon cooled down, he shivered and realised he was growing cold. He looked at his watch and found it was almost time to return to the pick-up point for his cab to return him to the city. Coming out here had been more than helpful. The keen wind had cleared his head, and he could now see that he very much wanted to take this opportunity that was being offered, and he'd tell Captain Lyle on Thursday morning as planned. As for Mike, he'd tell him tonight. He owed Mike an apology for thinking badly of him, and he was well aware of how much he'd hurt his partner. Things had to be put right between them, and it was down to him to do it.

The cab pulled in at the side of the road and Steve climbed into the front passenger seat and asked the driver to take him to 768 De Haro Street. They stopped briefly at Mama's on the way where he bought a salmon and broccoli quiche and the necessary accompaniments. He was the one who owed Mike an explanation and an apology, and it was only fair that he should go to Mike rather than Mike should come to him. As the cab pulled up at the foot of the long flight of steps leading to Mike's home, the cab driver asked if he was sure Steve felt confident enough to make it to the top. Steve stood and surveyed the long climb and knew that he would walk through hot coals for Mike if he had to, so a couple of flights of steps should be a breeze. He asked the cab driver to carry the bag with the groceries to the top for him before he drove off, and then, with frequent stops to ease his aching arms and to get his breath back, he began the steady climb to the top. Mike had given him a key to his home not long after they became partners, and he took his key ring from his pocket, located the correct key, and let himself into Mike's empty living room. He unpacked the food he'd bought and laid the table in Mike's small kitchen, then helped himself to a coffee and settled down in the darkness of the fading light to wait for Mike to return from work. He knew he wouldn't have long to wait.

Steve heard Mike coming up the steps and approaching the front door, and remained seated on the couch as the door opened. Mike turned and shut the door and flicked the light switch on, then turned back into the room, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw Steve sitting waiting for him.

"Steve! For goodness sake you scared me half to death! What are you doing here? How did you get up here?"

"I have a key... remember?"

"I didn't mean the key. I know you have a key. I meant... how did you get up here... you know... the steps?" Mike put his keys on the side table and took the chair opposite Steve.

"Oh, the same way I manage everything else at the moment... sheer grit and determination."

"Well, Buddy Boy, I'm really glad to see you. Look, about this afternoon... I'm really sorry that…"

"No, wait! Let me speak." Steve's eyes bored into Mike's. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Mike. I'm the one who lost it this afternoon and I had no right to do that to you, and especially not in front of Rudy and Captain Lyle. It was very wrong of me. I know you weren't trying to side-line me and I totally accept that Captain Lyle made the first move. I should know you better than that by now. I'm just... well... it's hard to explain but... I'm a little insecure in my standing with the squad at the moment, and particularly with you."

"Insecure! Steve you have no need to feel insecure. Your place is there waiting for you to take up where you left off on the night of the accident. You should know that, and it hurts me to think that you can believe any differently. Have I given you cause to think that because, if I have, then it was completely unintentional and I apologise if that's the case?"

"No, Mike. You've done nothing wrong. It's me. Sometimes... well... I just feel the way forward is clouded right now. Since the accident I feel I've somehow lost my ability to see a clear future for myself. I guess you could say it's caused me to be full of doubts and I'm not used to that. I'm usually so clear-headed and focused on what I want and where I'm going. I've tried to blame it on the PTSD, but then I tell myself it's too easy to just do that."

"But the PTSD is playing a major part in your life at the moment, Steve, and you can't just ignore it. Lenny's told you it'll improve with time but it's not something that will disappear overnight. It'll take time to work through it."

"I know that and I understand what you're saying, but I don't want to find myself using the PTSD as an easy excuse for the way I feel, for my bad behaviour... and... for hurting you. You, of all people, don't deserve that. My doubts and insecurities are my problem, and it's up to me to find a way to deal with them."

"You can always talk to me, Steve. You know I'll listen and help if I can. I'm always here for you."

"I know that, Mike, but sometimes we're just too close to talk. I can't put all my doubts and troubles on you all the time. I need an outsider to help me see and think more clearly and that's where Lenny is helping."

"What kind of doubts? Do you mean about your leg? Did Dr Truman tell you something the other day that you haven't told me?"

"No! No... don't worry... he says everything's progressing well. It's just... kind of... oh, I don't know! I guess with all that's been going on... everything just … sort of... folded in on top of me today. For weeks now, I've been trying to hold everything together after the injury. Then we got the Hennessey accusations and then on top of that came the offer out of the blue this morning from Lyle, and... it was too much, Mike. It was all... just... too much. And what I struggled with most, and what hurt me most, was that you knew all about it but you hadn't seen fit to tell me, and I guess I just felt like I was suddenly on very shaky ground not only with work but... with you."

"But, Steve, you have no reason to feel like that. Hennessey's accusations against you are... well... nothing short of farcical, and Lyle came up with the idea to offer you the post at the academy not me. I told you it had nothing to do with me trying to shunt you off elsewhere."

"I know that, Mike. I told you I knew it was wrong of me to even go down that road. I don't know why I even thought that way. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be back at work, it's what I wanted, and I'm happy to be helping out the others wherever I can, but... oh hell...it made sense earlier on when I got to thinking about it, but now... oh man, this is going to sound ridiculous... but..."

"But what, Steve? For goodness sake will you just spit it out and say what's bothering you!"

"Okay... okay... You're going to be mad as hell at me, but I'm going to say it anyway. It's just seeing Paul as your partner when it should be me! I'm jealous! I'm sorry, I know it's childish, but he's taken the place that should be mine. I know he's a good officer, but it's me who should have your back not Paul, and... well... I worry that he might not be up to it if anything was to happen to you and your life was to be put on the line. Would he be able to give you the back-up you need? What if you got killed because I wasn't there to prevent it and, in my place, he wasn't good enough? There, I've said it. Now tell me I'm being ridiculous." He looked across the room at Mike and expected him to burst out laughing at such childish nonsense. Even he could hear how ridiculous and immature it sounded now he'd actually said it out loud.

But Mike didn't laugh. He just stared Steve out for a few seconds then lowered his head, tapped his hands on his knees, put his hands on the arms of his chair and slowly pushed himself up. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the armchair that was set at right-angles to the couch, and reached across and put his arm across Steve's shoulder. "Steve, you have no need to feel jealous or insecure... or even afraid for me. I know I bluster and complain about him, but Paul's a decent enough police officer and, if we were in a fix, I have no doubts at all that he'd do okay, so stop worrying on that score. You know he's temporary. He's where he is purely for the duration of your recovery, but he's not of your calibre. Trust me. Your place at my side is rock solid and secure, and waiting for you when you're ready, and... you're forgetting something most important."

"What's that, Mike?"

Mike's fingers slid to the back of Steve's neck and rested below his hairline. "You say you miss working alongside me? Well, Buddy Boy, I miss you just as much, if not more. How do you think I feel when we're out in that car every day and I look across and it's not you behind the wheel? How do you think I feel when I try to bounce ideas off him and it's like trying to bounce a lead weight rather than a rubber ball? I'll let you into a secret, too." He lightly shook Steve's neck. "He's nowhere near as good a driver as you are. He's almost wrapped us round a street light more than once and... this really annoys me... when he parks on a hill he always parks the car the wrong way round, or sideways on, so I'm having to get out with the car facing uphill. It's the devil of a job to keep the door open and get out, especially when you're getting on a bit, you know. I seem to struggle every day and it's most undignified for a man in my position."

Steve started to laugh. "Oh, Mike. I thought I was suffering, but you're suffering too, if only in not being able to get out of the car in a dignified fashion." He looked affectionately at his friend. "You implied not long ago that we were like an old married couple, and I think you're right. I'm jealous of your 'significant other' and you're not happy because he's a lousy driver. We're a right pair of idiots, aren't we?"

"We sure are but, in a contest, you'd win hands down! Now, if we've sorted out our insecurities, how about we go out and get something to eat... my treat?"

"I've got a better idea. How about we stop in and get something to eat... my treat?" And Steve pointed towards the kitchen. "I took a bit of a liberty before you got here."

Mike stood up and hurried towards his kitchen and looked inside. "Well, that's a spread fit for a king," he beamed that goofy, adorable grin that Steve loved. "This looks great. Come on, let's eat. I'm starving."

As they ate and enjoyed the food Steve had laid out earlier, the conversation between them returned to the subject that had caused the problem between them in the first place.

"So, where did you get to this afternoon? Did you manage to reach a decision about the academy, Steve?"

"I took a cab up to the view point overlooking the bridge. The fresh air up there always clears my head... and every other part of me too. It was very windy up there," he laughed. "I've given it a lot of thought and I've decided to take the job for three reasons. One... it's something different and sounds intriguing. Two... I've never done anything like that before, so it should also be very challenging. And three... it's a chance for me to possibly influence the future development of the academy side of the SFPD even if only in a small way. Oh, there's a fourth reason. I believe it's a great opportunity, for me and for my career, that probably wouldn't have been offered to me but for the accident. You know I'm a firm believer in fate and that things happen for a reason. June Holloway... remember... the night nurse? Well, she said something similar when I was chatting with her one night. She said she believed sometimes life throws us a curve ball for a reason. Perhaps she's right and this is 'my reason', so I'm going to grab the opportunity with both hands and see what I can make of it. I have this PTSD, Mike, as well as my injury, and it's ruling my life at the moment. I need to get a handle on it and overcome it. I'm hoping that, in taking this job, I can change my focus onto others instead of myself. If I can help Jonas Lyle, help the cadets and beat the PTSD at the same time, it will all have been worthwhile."

"I'm glad, Steve, and I have a feeling you're going to be very good at it. I just hope you're not taking on too much with everything else. Just take care, and be aware of your limitations with regard to your health, and don't overdo it. I'll be keeping a close eye on you and, if it gets too much for you, we can think again. Okay?"

"Okay, Mike. Thanks."

"Now... can we make another decision?" Mike asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Sure. What decision's that, Mike?"

"Which one of us is going to wash and which one's going to dry?" And both men laughed heartily and spent the rest of the evening chatting and feeling very content in each other's company until it was time for Mike to take Steve home.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Steve gave his answer to Captain Lyle on the Thursday morning as promised, and it was arranged that final details for the scheme would be decided and set out in detail over the next week, to be rolled out after the following weekend which was the first week of December. There would still be a couple of weeks left of the fall semester, so Steve would be able to break himself in gently with the basic and intermediate cadets. Those advanced cadets reaching the last two weeks of their training would not be party to the tutorials with Steve, but would still be able to speak to him privately if they wished. Meetings were arranged for the following week.

The Thursday of that following week was Thanksgiving Day, but Jeannie had asked her father if he minded if she stayed at college that weekend. She wasn't due back in college until Tuesday and, whilst she would have loved to have seen both of them, end of term exams were looming immediately after the short break and her time would be better spent in preparation and revision. Anyway, she would be coming home for the Christmas recess for almost four weeks and would be able to spend quality time with both Mike and Steve then. If truth be told, Steve was rather relieved Jeannie wasn't coming home. On the one hand, having her home would have helped distract him from thinking about what was ahead, but on the other, he felt he needed a little quiet time to prepare himself. Mike was naturally disappointed, but he only wanted what was best for Jeannie. He and Steve had elected to work over Christmas to free up the men who had young children to spend time with their families, so they both had the Thanksgiving weekend off. They thought they'd take some time out over the weekend and maybe drive over to Marin County to Muir Beach or Stinson Beach, or maybe even enjoy the drive along Bolinas Lagoon. The weather was still reasonably mild, and it would do them both good to relax a little. They decided they'd definitely go fishing one day too. It might prove a challenge for Steve but, between them, they felt sure they'd manage.

During the early part of the next week, Steve attended a couple of meetings at the academy with Captain Lyle and some of the senior trainers and, in particular, with Lieutenant Jack Sage who was to be Steve's direct liaison officer. Lieutenant Sage had been one of Steve's own trainers eight years ago when he'd been a cadet himself. He'd always liked the older man and got on well with him, so it was good to meet up with him again. Although it had been several years since Steve had been a cadet here, walking through the hallways and grounds brought back many memories. The lieutenant asked Steve to do away with formality and call him Jack, and he showed him the room that had been allocated to him to use as an office. It was nothing sophisticated, just a small room with a desk in front of the window with a telephone on it, and two chairs set one on either side of the desk. Steve asked Jack if both the chairs could be changed for something a little more comfortable. He explained that if he had to sit in there for several hours twice a week he needed something softer than the hard plastic chairs currently provided and, if he wanted the cadets to relax and open up to him, he needed them to be comfortable too. There was also a small side table with tea and coffee making facilities set out and several mugs had been provided. Fresh milk or cream would apparently be supplied daily. He also asked if he could have a stool to use as a leg rest. There was a small bookcase against the far wall with several text books of the type issued to cadets at various stages of their training, and Steve made a mental note to bring in a few of his own well-thumbed books. There was also a typewriter which sat on a separate, larger side table with a chair in front of it, and he was shown the room he could use for photocopying and printing if needed. As he opened the drawers of the desk, he saw that there was an ample supply of stationery and pens of all colours provided. Jack pointed out to him that a light system had been set up on the wall outside his door which he could operate from his desk without getting up. This would enable him to show a red light when his room was busy and a green light when he was free for a cadet to ask for a chat. All in all, he was more than happy with the facilities provided for him.

It was arranged that, at the end of classes on Wednesday, all the cadets would gather in the lecture hall of the academy and Steve would be introduced to them, and the ideas of the pilot scheme would be explained to them. Many of them had noticed and recognised Steve on his crutches being accompanied around the rooms and hallways during the previous couple of days, and there was much speculation as to what he was doing at the academy.

Steve decided to dress formally, apart from his sweat pants, in a smart jacket and tie for his initial introduction to the cadets, but he planned to dress casually for the sessions he was to hold. As the cadets filed into the lecture hall, it was to see Captain Lyle, Lieutenant Sage and Steve already seated behind a long table at the front of the hall. The cadets remained standing until invited to sit by Captain Lyle, who had stood to address the hall.

"Good afternoon to you all, and thank you for staying over after classes this afternoon. You may all be wondering why you have been asked to come here, so I'm going to be as concise and thorough as possible in my explanation. You will see here beside me an officer that many of you will know or, indeed, may have heard of. This is Inspector Steven Keller of the homicide squad. As you can see Inspector Keller is temporarily incapacitated at the moment, but he has kindly accepted an invitation from us to help us out with a new pilot scheme that we are planning for the academy. He will address you all shortly, but first I'll tell you about what we have planned."

For the next few minutes Captain Lyle addressed the cadets and laid out the details of the scheme. There were some whispers from the students which Steve listened attentively to and tried to catch. From the general drift, he felt the whispers and facial expressions seemed to be in approval but, at this stage, it was difficult to tell. Eventually, the Captain closed his speech. "Well, that's the plan we've come up with and we sincerely hope it will be successful. Lieutenant Sage here will be in direct liaison with Inspector Keller as and when necessary. All that remains now is for me to ask Inspector Keller to introduce himself and say a few words to you all." He sat down and looked across at Steve and handed him the floor.

Steve looked around the lecture hall at the sea of faces, and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Good afternoon to you all. Please excuse me for remaining seated, but it's just easier for me at the moment. As Captain Lyle has already told you, my name is Steve Keller and I work in homicide alongside Lieutenant Mike Stone. It wasn't so long ago that I sat in this lecture theatre and walked these very hallways as a cadet myself. My time here was a little mixed but, on the whole, it was a very challenging, rewarding and happy time. The training that you're all given here is some of the best police training in the country, and it's to be hoped that it sets you up for a life of service to the residents of this beautiful city of ours, whether that be patrolling the streets or attached to one of the squads. However, I'll freely admit to you, there were times when things got a little tough in training and I was at a low ebb, and I would have appreciated someone I could have approached for some friendly advice. Of course, there were trainers available in those days that I could have approached as there are now, but the beauty of this new scheme is that it will allow for any discussions we may have and any advice given, to be completely off the record, unless something very serious is brought up and you are agreeable for it to be shared with your senior officers. It is my intention that the tutorials I will be holding with you will be very much cadet oriented. They will not in any way follow a set curriculum. I'm very much hoping that you will choose what we talk about. I can discuss exactly how this will work when I meet you all in class next week. I understand this scheme will be the first of its kind in the country and, if it's successful, it's likely to be adopted into the curriculum here, and may even be adopted by other police departments elsewhere. I'm very excited and honoured to have been asked to take part, however the scheme will only be successful if we all pull together to make it work. Please note, it's being introduced for your benefit, not the benefit of your trainers, so it's up to you to take advantage of it and help to make it a success. I want our tutorials to be not only interesting and educational, but also fun. I also want to be available to try my best to help you all as much as I can on a personal level, but my role here is also dependent upon those of you who would like help coming forward with any problems you may have. I hope I can be that person you feel you can open up to. So, I look forward very much to meeting you all in your class groups next week. Thank you."

As Steve finished his speech there was a low murmur among the cadets, then a few began to clap, and soon the whole auditorium was filled with clamorous applause. Steve felt a distinct lump in his throat as he cast his eyes over the body of cadets in front of him, and he couldn't help but feel that the cadets had shown their respect for him and made it known that he was welcome here.

As the applause died down Captain Lyle addressed the hall again. "Thank you everyone, and thank you Inspector Keller. I'm sure we're all looking forward to your input here at the academy. That's all for today ladies and gentlemen, and happy Thanksgiving Day from us to you all. You are dismissed."

The three men remained seated as the cadets stood to leave. They could hear a lot of quiet muttering amongst the cadets, and once they had all exited the hall, Steve finally felt he could relax. As they got up to leave the hall, Steve heaved a sigh of relief.

"Phew! I'm glad that's over," he chuckled. "I never thought I'd ever be standing here addressing close on a hundred young cadets. I don't mind admitting it was quite daunting. I just hope I can do this."

"Well, I think it went very well, and I have every confidence in you. Your introductory speech was excellent, and I feel you were very well received." He rubbed his hands together. "You know, Steve, I have a really good feeling about this scheme and your involvement in it."

"Time will tell, Captain. We'll just have to wait and see."

It had been decided that Steve would work at the academy on Monday and Friday afternoons allowing him to continue to work in homicide on Tuesday to Thursday during the week. It also gave him time in the week to prepare his sessions for Fridays and then time at home at the weekend to prepare for Mondays.

Thanksgiving Day and through to the weekend passed pleasantly for both Steve and Mike. They took a drive over to Marin County and then drove up to Stinson Beach, where they ate hot dogs and drank piping hot coffee from a burger van at the back of the beach, then they took a leisurely drive along Bolinas Lagoon before they headed home again. In the evening, Bill and his wife, Tara, had invited them both to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal with them and their children. Their home was modest but full of love, and Steve couldn't help but feel envious of his friends, and he hoped that he could find true love with a special lady one day just as Bill had done.

Unfortunately, Mike was unexpectedly called back into the office the next day, so Steve contacted a couple of old college buddies and met up for a meal and a few drinks down at the wharf. It was a happy day full of jokes and laughter and much ribbing about his impending post as a temporary tutor. He took it all in good part and joined in the laughter, and it did him good to be with friends of his own age. They were surprisingly very supportive of Steve's impending position at the academy, and both felt he would be well suited to the post and had no doubt he would make a good job of it.

Saturday dawned dry and bright. Mike picked Steve up early and they went fishing together to Lake Merced. There was a lot of good natured tomfoolery as they were trying to set up the rods. With Steve dependent on his crutches for support, he had no choice but to do everything sitting down, even casting, and he got his line hopelessly caught up in the bushes behind him not once but twice. Trying to extricate the hook and line a second time, Mike got himself caught up on thorns and managed to tear his pants in two places across the backside revealing his underpants beneath. Steve wasn't sure what was funnier... the holes in his pants or the look on Mike's face as his fingers roamed over his butt trying to find the holes to find out how bad they were. Mike pushed his finger into the largest hole.

"Mike, be careful poking around in there you don't know what you'll... find!"

Just as he said it, Mike's finger suddenly poked out of the other hole and he waggled it. Steve was absolutely taken up by a paroxysm of laughter, and laughed so much he almost fell off his chair, and the more Mike kept a straight face and didn't laugh, the more Steve doubled up. Mike just glared at him and Steve honestly thought he might die of laughter as he was struggling to take a breath and his sides ached.

"Oh, so you think it's funny do you, hot shot? I'm sure those thorns have drawn blood," Mike moaned as he twisted around trying to look behind him.

"Yeah... oh... it's so funny!" squeaked Steve. "Oh, Mike, I can see your underpants... and... they're bright pink! And your face... oh God... I think I'm going to die!"

"Well at least I have some underpants on!" barked Mike and his words carried them both back to when Steve was in the hospital. Suddenly, Mike's face creased too, and he joined Steve in a fit of convulsive giggles. Eventually, Steve drew a deep breath and exhaled trying to calm himself. He felt himself shudder as he fought to gain control of his breathing, but the giggles were still there just under the surface. It was a while before either of them could settle themselves down.

"It's alright for you to laugh, but what am I supposed to do? I have two big holes and my underpants are showing. How can I show my face in public like this?" He was looking round and about and over his shoulder to see if there were any other visitors near them, as Lake Merced was a really popular place to visit especially at the weekends.

"It's not your face you need to worry about... it's your butt!" And off Steve went again with another fit of giggling. "And why are your underpants shocking pink?"

"Well, I washed them with that new maroon cardigan Jeannie bought me for my birthday and the colour ran."

"Well, you should've just chucked them away."

"Why? I'm not made of money! They're a perfectly good pair of underpants... just not white any more. Now, will you stop acting like a four year old and help me out of this fix. What can I do? I'll have to sew them up? They're my lucky pants you know."

"Not today they're not! Anyway, how can you expect to sew them up here? Do you keep a sewing box in that fishing creel over there? Or you could always try using a hook and some fishing line! Oh jeez! My sides are killing me."

"Well, stop laughing at me then. It's your fault it happened. If you hadn't got your line caught up, I wouldn't have got impaled on those thorns trying to free it."

"Wait till I tell the guys in the bullpen about this! Oh, I can milk this for weeks."

"Don't you dare! Steve... please! Promise me you'll keep quiet about this. I mean it. I'm the head of homicide and you'll just make me a laughing stock." Mike grabbed him by the arm and glared at him as only Mike could.

"Alright, alright, take it easy. I'll keep quiet, though you don't deserve it after the way you teased me when I was in the hospital. You made fun of a sick man, Mike."

"I only did that to keep your spirits up. Now, help me. What can I do to fix this till I get home?"

"Take your jacket off and drape it round the back of you and tie the sleeves round your waist at the front."

"But I'll freeze to death without a jacket on."

"Oh, don't exaggerate. It's not that cold. You'll be fine," Steve said as he picked up his rod and carefully cast it out again and settled to watch the float.

"If you were a true friend you'd give me your jacket," Mike whined.

"What... and catch cold myself? Mike, you know I love you... but not that much! Now, let's get fishing before those fish all get scared away. I bet they've never seen shocking pink underpants before on a police lieutenant! Tut... tut... tut. What an embarrassment!"

For the rest of the day there was much mildly ribald humour and rivalry between them and Mike's hurt was compounded by the fact that he didn't catch anything all day whilst Steve, who'd managed to get himself caught up in the bushes for a third time, actually caught a trout and two small carp. They packed up to go home earlier than usual as the temperature was dropping and Mike was feeling the cold.

They stopped off for a meal at a roadside diner on the way home, which caused more fun for Steve as Mike refused to risk untying his jacket from around his waist and had to sit on it throughout the meal. As they parted outside Steve's apartment, they both realised they hadn't mentioned the injury, the PTSD or the academy all day. It had done them both good to just switch off and relax and have fun in each other's company. Mike smiled broadly at him and reached across and patted Steve's arm before he got out of the car. "Get yourself a good night's sleep and don't worry about Monday. You'll be amazing, Buddy Boy. Those cadets won't know what's hit them. Go in there and knock 'em dead, you hear me?"

"Hey, hold on a minute, Mike. I don't intend to hit them nor knock them dead! Those are pretty dangerous suggestions to come from the head of homicide don't you think? I can just see the headlines in Tuesday's papers...'Homicide Detective takes up post at Police Academy and kills off cadets on first day'," Steve joked. "Doesn't this city generate enough murders to keep you busy without me carrying out more? That would scupper the scheme before it had even had a chance to get off the ground. You know, I'll just be happy if they accept me and interact as I'm hoping they'll do in these... sessions. I can't bring myself to call them tutorials or lessons. It makes me sound too much like a teacher and that's not what I'm aiming for. I'm a police officer and that's where I belong. I doubt I would ever make a teacher... never in a million years... but I'll give it a go. No experience is ever wasted, isn't that right?"

"Hey, that's another one of my dear old mother's sayings you're pinching. It's good to see you've learnt something from me, hot shot!" Mike laughed loudly.

"Mike, I learn something from you every day... even if it's only a trite saying of your mother's. Well. I can't sit here all night. I'd better go in. Goodnight and thanks for a great day. It's been fun. I think we both needed it. We'll do it again sometime soon... yes?"

"We sure will, but not until you're back on your own two feet and able to untangle your own line from those lousy bushes. I've got to go home now and find a needle and cotton and do some repairs on the tears in my pants. Where's my daughter when I need her, eh?" he chuckled. "I'll phone you Monday night and you can let me know how you got on."

"Don't worry, I'm bound to be whacked on Monday night. I'll tell you Tuesday when I come into work. And take my advice... leave those repairs for Jeannie. She's a much better seamstress than you'll ever be."

"You're probably right, Buddy Boy," Mike grinned broadly. "See you Tuesday. Good luck and take care. Night, Steve. Sleep well."

"You, too." Steve climbed out of the car and slowly made the climb to his apartment. When he reached the top, he turned and gave a brief wave to Mike who returned it and then drove off.

They hadn't made any plans for Sunday as Steve wanted to use the day to get caught up with some household chores and washing, which was just as well when the morning dawned wet and dark and it continued to pour with rain all day. When his chores were finished, he ate a light lunch and just generally relaxed and prepared his thoughts for the next day. His classes weren't due to start until 2.00 pm, so he promised himself a lie-in and then he would get to the academy well before time and settle himself into his temporary office, along with a few of his books. He watched some TV and was just about to head off to the bathroom to begin his night-time routine of exercises and pin site cleaning, which he still undertook painstakingly every night and morning, when the phone rang.

"Hey, babe! How are you?" Jeannie asked, and Steve could hear her beautiful smile in her voice.

"Hey, Jeannie. It's good to hear from you. I'm fine thanks. You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Studying hard ready for the exams on Tuesday. I wish I could've come home this weekend, but I'll be home at Christmas so we'll make up for lost time then. I just wanted to catch up with you and wish you good luck for tomorrow. Are you getting nervous about your new venture?"

"Well, I am a bit apprehensive I suppose. Strike that! To be honest, I'm scared stiff! I've never done anything like this before so I'm a little worried about how it's all going to work out. I can't help but feel it's a strange thing for the academy to ask of me, but it's what they want so I feel quite a responsibility to get it right... if I can."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do well, Steve. When I think of all the chats you and I have had over the last few years, and all the sensible advice you've given me regarding school and Mike, I have no doubt you'll make a great success of the scheme."

"Only too glad to help, Jeannie. That's high praise indeed... especially coming from you. You're not usually so generous with your praise," he teased her.

"What do you mean, Steve Keller? I'm always singing your praises. Haven't you heard me?"

"Not that I can remember, but maybe I'm tone deaf where you're concerned."

"Beast! I'll ignore that. How's Mike? I rang yesterday several times but he wasn't in, so I'm going to try again tonight after I've rung you. Don't tell me he was called into work again? He's a glutton for punishment."

"No he wasn't called into work. We were actually out all day and had a wonderful time. We went fishing to Lake Merced and had a great day out. It was lots of fun... a really good laugh."

"Did Mike catch anything? I know how he's always eager to compete with you."

"Yes, he did catch something... but... er... it wasn't fish," Steve sniggered.

"What do you mean, it wasn't fish? What else could you catch if you went fishing? Was it eels or something? Aren't eels fish?"

"Yes they are, and no... it wasn't eels."

"Oh, I know. Was it an old bike then that someone had thrown away?"

Steve laughed at her ridiculous suggestion. "No, it wasn't! It doesn't matter, Jeannie. Ask Mike, he'll tell you and... er... while you're talking to him, why don't you give him some advice on how best to wash that new maroon cardigan you bought him for his birthday. I don't think he's quite got the hang of it." Steve could feel the laughter bubbling up again and forced it firmly down.

"That new cardigan? Oh... don't tell me he's ruined it already. I can't trust that man with anything can I?"

"Oh, he hasn't ruined it. The cardigan's fine. It's... well... it's just a bit... pants... in more ways than one, that's all."

"A bit pants? What are you on about? Have you been hitting the beer and mixing it with your meds, Steve? You know you're not supposed to drink alcohol while you're on painkillers. Don't you need them any more?"

"No, I've not touched any beer and, yes, I am still taking the painkillers but not so many or so often. Just ask Mike. He'll fill you in."

"Don't worry... I will. I'll ring him in a minute. Perhaps I can get a sensible conversation out of him because I'm sure not getting one out of you. Are you sure you're not on the beer?"

"No, Jeannie. I'm not on the beer. Credit me with more sense than that. Anyway, I leave the excess drinking to you these days," he chuckled.

"Oh... please... don't remind me. You just had to bring that up didn't you? I don't suppose I'll ever live that down. It took me three days to get rid of that hangover and stiff neck," she laughed. "Look, I really hope all goes well for you tomorrow, Steve. I'll ring you again later in the week to see how you're getting on. I'd better go. It's getting late and I want to catch Mike before he settles for the night."

"Okay, Jeannie, thanks for ringing. Good luck for your exams. I'd say 'break a leg!' but I wouldn't wish this on anyone," he joked. "I'll be thinking about you. Goodnight, Jeannie."

"Night, babe, take care."

Steve replaced the receiver and wondered if he should've stirred her imagination like that. Mike would probably be mad with him. She was like a dog with a bone when she wanted to get to the bottom of something. Still smiling to himself, he made his way to the bathroom. He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow. Perhaps an early night wouldn't come amiss.

An hour later and Steve was lying back in bed, his hands behind his head, trying to settle his mind and his nerves ready for sleep, when the phone at the side of his bed rang.

"Hello, Keller."

"Thanks a bunch, Buddy Boy. I owe you one!" and the caller hung up before Steve could even mount a reply.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

As Steve sat in the front seat of the cab for the twenty minute journey from his home to the Police Academy at Diamond Heights, his stomach was all of a churn. He'd made this same journey several times over the last week or so, but this time he was going in as a... as a what? Was he a trainer?... a counsellor?... a teacher? No, definitely not a teacher! Oh jeez, the nerves were kicking in big time now. What had he let himself in for? As the cab took the winding route down Duncan Street, turned right into Amber Drive and pulled up outside the entrance to the academy, Steve desperately tried to control his breathing. The thought crossed his mind that he was relieved he'd decided against a heavy lunch, as the crackers and cheese he'd eaten before he left threatened to renew their acquaintance with the outside world! As he got out of the cab and made his way to the entrance, he was relieved to see it opened by a beaming Jack Sage.

"Hello there, Steve. I was just crossing the lobby when I saw you. I had a funny feeling you'd be in early today. Trying to make a good impression, eh?"

"Something like that, though I have to say, as the cab approached the entrance, I almost told the driver to turn around and get the hell out of here!" He smiled ruefully.

"You'll be fine. It's just first day nerves. Don't tell me you've never suffered from them before because you wouldn't be human if you hadn't, and I wouldn't believe you anyway. Let's get you along to your office and settled in. Have you had any lunch? It's just on one o'clock so you've arrived at the perfect time if you'd like to join me."

"Thanks, Jack but... er... no thanks, not today. I don't think there's any room in my stomach for food. It's full to the brim with butterflies with clogs on at the moment."

"Ha ha! That'll soon settle. Once you get into that classroom with thirty students sitting in front of you all ready to hang on your every word, they'll all fly away... clogs and all." He beamed at Steve and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Don't please! I appreciate the attempt at humour, but it's not working." They reached the room Steve had been allocated to use as an office, with its red and green light system mounted on the wall outside ready to light up when pressed. Jack pushed the door open and held it for Steve to make his way through. Steve looked around the room and saw it was now furnished with a high-backed leather chair and a stool for his leg, and a smaller chair with arm rests on the opposite side of the desk. Panic rose up inside him again as he realised this was all very real now. "Jack, what the hell am I doing here? Can you tell me, because I sure as hell don't know? I must have been mad to let myself get talked into this."

"I told you it's first day nerves, that's all. Trust me, I meant what I said, though it may have come across as tongue-in-cheek humour. Once you get going you'll be alright. The cadets are all a great bunch... well... most of them. There are one or two troublemakers you may need to keep your eye on and take a heavy line with. Oh dear, your face! I'm joking Steve! Lighten up, man! They're all okay. You'll be fine," he chuckled.

"Huh! Are you always this hilarious when you're trying to be reassuring?"

"Sorry. I'll quit with the jokes. Now, you have tea and coffee over there, and Monica, who'll assist you as a secretary whenever and wherever she can, has put you fresh milk and, I think, even some cream. So, make yourself a hot drink and get yourself settled in. It might be best to eat something even if it's only a few plain cookies just to settle your stomach. I'm off to get a quick lunch, then I'll be back about ten to two to accompany you to your first class. Do you want to arrive after the students or before?"

"I was thinking about that on the way here and I'd rather not hobble in on crutches in front of them, not on the first day, so I thought I'd get there in advance and position myself in front of the class as they arrive. Is that alright with you?"

"That's fine, Steve. I'll see you shortly. Oh, those books you sent on ahead are on the table over there. I seem to recognise those old copies from a few years back, but they're just as valid today as they were then... mostly. There have been a few updates since your time here." And with a friendly pat on the shoulder Jack left Steve alone in his office.

Steve took a look around taking everything in, then made his way across to the drinks tray and made himself a weak tea which was all his stomach dare face. As he was about to carry it over to his desk there was a tap on the door and a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties and with beautiful shoulder length auburn hair, put her head around the door.

"Is it alright if I come in?" she asked as she walked into the room. She smiled at Steve and held her hand out. "I'm Monica Leishman. I'm one of the admin secretaries here and I've been asked to help you where I can."

"Oh hi, Monica. I'm Steve. I'm very pleased to meet you." He reached forward and shook her hand. "I was just telling Lieutenant Sage, I'm beginning to wish I'd never agreed to this. I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed and very much out of my comfort zone at the moment."

"It's just first day nerves. You'll soon settle in." She quietly picked the mug of tea up and placed it on his desk for him.

"Oh, thanks. He said exactly the same thing. I'm beginning to think it must be standard welcoming procedure from a manual you all refer to here."

"It probably is. I know Jack uses it on all the students in his welcoming speech. Now, do you have everything you need? Oh, your books came. Do you want them on your desk or in the book case?"

"I'll have them on my desk please... something familiar from home to comfort me," he laughed, and his gaze swept over everything in the room. "I think I have all I need. That chair looks like it'll be comfortable. I'm glad they changed it, and thank you for the tea and coffee supplies. As you can see, I've already helped myself at Jack's suggestion."

"You're welcome. I'll see that there's fresh cream and milk on the tray every day from the cafeteria, and just leave any dirty mugs and the janitors will wash and return them. If I can help you with any typing, photocopying, or even research, just let me know, and I'll do my best to help where I can. My fiancé says I'm a natural busybody because I love ferreting out information. I don't claim to be the fount of all knowledge, but I've worked here for the past six years so there's not much I don't know about the place. I'm forgetting though, that you were a cadet here yourself weren't you? You already know the ropes here but, if it's anything to do with admin, I'm your Girl Friday... or in your case... Girl Monday and Friday," she grinned.

"Thanks, it's much appreciated. I was a cadet here, but it's an entirely different feeling being on the other side of the desk. Well, I guess I'll just settle myself in then." He approached the chair and placed his crutches to the side as he sat down. "Oh, yes, very comfortable. Thanks, Monica."

"You're welcome, Steve." And with that she left the office leaving Steve to drink his tea and wait for Jack to return. She has a fiancé, he thought to himself. Lucky guy! Well, that put one very pretty girl well and truly out of bounds.

At precisely ten minutes to two there was a tap on his door and Jack entered. "Right, are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Come on, let's get it over with."

"Anyone would think you were walking to the gallows," Jack quipped.

Steve laughed weakly, "Believe me, it feels like it."

The classroom he was to use for all his sessions was up on the second floor away from the offices and administration areas. They took the elevator up and then walked just a short way along the corridor and entered. The room was empty except for the furniture. It was a large room with five rows of desks facing a larger desk at the front mounted on a dais in front of a blackboard.

Steve swallowed his nerves as best he could as he stood at the back of the room and looked round. "It hasn't changed a bit since my days here. I was often in class in this same room. They're the same desks and chairs and the same blackboard. It even smells the same. It's almost timeless."

"No, I don't suppose it has changed. There are development plans afoot to update and extend the buildings here soon with bigger and brighter classrooms, but they're still in the planning stage."

Before Steve moved further into the room, he opened a canvas bag that he carried across his shoulder and removed two square boxes marked 'Basic' and 'Intermediate' and placed them on a shelf at the back of the room.

"What are those for, Steve?" Jack asked looking puzzled.

"They're suggestion boxes... for the cadets to put any questions in that they might not want to ask out loud in front of the others."

"Oh, that's a neat idea. I wish I'd thought of that. Yes, very clever."

As they moved further into the room towards the desk Steve spotted a problem. "Jack, I'm sorry but I think I'll need a different chair again, if you don't mind. I can't stand for long on one leg and a hard upright isn't..." Before he could finish his sentence, Jack had jumped in.

"Of course, Steve, I should've thought of that. You'll need a stool too, won't you? Leave it with me and I'll see what I can rustle up."

"Thanks, Jack. Don't worry now. I'll manage for today." Then he placed his crutches to the side of him as he leaned back and sat himself lightly against the front edge of the desk. Jack stood alongside him and, within minutes, the cadets started to file into the classroom. They all approached their desks and stood behind their chairs in the "at ease" position. Jack was the first to speak.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. You may be seated." There was mass movement as all the cadets took their seats and sat quietly.

"Welcome to your inaugural session with Inspector Keller here. I know he's a little nervous, so just be gentle with him. He's here to help you, and us, with this new pilot scheme that Captain Lyle has explained to you all. Now, I'm going to get out of your hair and leave you all to it. You may remain seated. Good luck, Steve," he said quietly and left the room.

This was it! Time to take a deep breath and dive in head first.

"Hello everyone. I'm a little nervous to be standing here in front of all your bright and eager looking faces, but... well... here I am. When Lieutenant Sage introduced this as our inaugural session, I must admit I felt a bit like how the President of the United States must feel making his inaugural speech to the country, though I doubt he was ever as nervous as I am at this moment. Unlike him, I don't have a formal speech prepared, but I just want to explain, in my own words, how I see these sessions progressing.

"First off, I'm not a formally trained teacher or a trainer. I'm not even a trained counsellor. I'm just an ordinary, everyday, normal police officer, like you all hope to be someday soon, who's been asked to participate in this scheme that your superiors think may be a good idea to introduce into the system here at the academy. I don't profess to know more than your trainers, and I would not presume to take on their mantle of authority. So, having said that, I'd like to keep things informal between us and for you to call me Steve. I'd like us all to be on first name terms, so I have some cards here and some pins and I'd be grateful if you would each take one and write your first name on it and pin it on your shirt, and wear the name tags at each session please, at least until I get to know who you all are." He reached forward to the cadet sitting immediately in front of him. "Would you mind passing them round please. Thanks." The cadet took a card and a pin then passed the pile to the next cadet... and so it went on till they'd all been handed out.

Steve continued. "I'm here to try and bring my own experience of policing to you and to give you a first-hand taste of what today's policing in San Francisco is like before you're all let loose on the streets. I don't have any formal... shall we say... sessions... for want of a better word... planned. For the most part I want you to dictate what we talk about. I want you to tell me, either collectively or singly, if there is any part of the curriculum here that you're struggling with or would like more clarification or insight about. To help you, I'll put a suggestion box at the back of the room before every session, and you may put any suggestions in it, or points that you wish to raise, so that I can look at them before our next meetings. I don't mind if you identify yourselves on these suggestions or remain anonymous. All I ask is that you keep all suggestions clean and generally polite. If there are any that say, "Go home, you're not wanted" I'm afraid they won't be discussed at the next session... or maybe they should be," he laughed nervously. There were a few murmurs amongst the cadets and light laughs and then Steve continued.

"I also want to try and bring practical experience of some techniques into a classroom setting. Now I know your trainers already do this in the tutorials you currently receive. I well remember from my own time at the academy, the days spent in a make-believe interview room setting, or in a similar court room setting, role playing being the cop or the suspect, or the attorney or the witness on the stand. I'm not that old, and it's not that long ago, that I was sitting where you are now. I seem to remember these were quite formal lessons in my time, and sometimes it was hard to speak out and ask questions for fear of being afraid to ask the wrong thing. Now, I don't know if training has lightened up a bit since my time, or if any of you are as hesitant as I was in my day, but our time together is your chance to quiz me on anything you wish... anything at all... and if I can help you to understand or clarify points of law, or basic tactics of interview techniques, or anything else that you want help with, then I will do my best to do so. If a point is raised in our discussions that I can't help you with, then I'll either find out for myself, or I'll ask for someone else to come in to help me. I want this to be a learning curve, not just for you, but for me as well. As a police officer you never stop learning.

"Now, you have three, ten-week courses that you undertake as basic, intermediate and advanced cadets over the course of nine months with term breaks thrown in. Your group is about to come to the end of its basic course in two weeks' time when you break for ten days for Christmas. When you return in the new year you will be intermediate cadets, so we'll then adjust the content of our sessions to include the new stuff you're learning.

"There's one other matter that I need to raise. As you know, Captain Lyle feels that cadets may benefit from a personal tutor they can approach for... well... personal advice. This can be about anything that's bothering you that you want to talk about on a friendly and completely informal basis, either at the academy or in your personal life at home or outside the academy. I've been given an office on the first floor, and after my three afternoon classes here on Mondays and Fridays I will be available in my office for any one of you to come and have a chat with me. Until the Christmas break I'm only taking two sessions on each of Mondays and Fridays so I'll be available between 4.30 pm and 7.00 pm. After the new year I'll expect to be here till 8.00 pm. Some bright spark has set up a helpful red light, green light, system outside the door to denote whether I'm engaged with someone or not. Now, I'm just a cop and, to be perfectly honest, I really don't know how much help I will be able to offer, but I can try. As I said before, I'm not a trained counsellor. I just want to be your friend... a fellow cop who doesn't claim to know all the answers, but who is simply prepared to listen. Anything you say to me in that office will remain private between you and me and no official notes will be taken, though I may make a few for my own records to jog my memory for if I need to see you again. If an issue is raised between us that I feel unduly concerned about, then I may ask your permission to seek help elsewhere but, I stress, it has to be with your permission or else the trust between us will falter. The whole idea is that these sessions here, and the ones in my office, will remain between us. If at any point you're not happy with how our classroom sessions are going, or if you feel you wish to change the format of them, then... please... don't be afraid to speak up. Ultimately, these sessions are for your benefit, so I want them best tailored to suit your needs.

"Now, I think you've heard enough from me so I'd like to throw the floor open and for you to speak but, before I do, let's just get one thing out of the way. I'm sure you're all curious about this frame I have on my leg. It's human nature to wonder. I don't want this to become any kind of an issue that we have to awkwardly skirt around, so you have five minutes to ask me any questions about it and then we never have to mention it again... starting now."

Five minutes extended into ten as the cadets were slow to break the ice, then the questions started and Steve answered all the questions as honestly as he could. Clearly, the main question was "Is it painful?" followed by "How long will it be on your leg for?" and "What's happening whilst you're out of action?" and other such questions that anyone would ask out of natural curiosity. But when he was asked about how it had happened Steve was very brief in his answer. He didn't want them putting him on a pedestal as some kind of hero, so he kept his answer short.

"Right, that's enough! Now that's out of the way, does anyone want to be the first to start our sessions?" he asked the group in front of him. After a short while, as some cadets looked at each other to take the lead, someone asked the first question and Steve heaved a sigh of relief that it was something he could answer confidently.

"Do you ever regret becoming a police officer?"

"No, never. I finished my criminology degree then switched from studying law to become a cop because I wanted to be on the sharp end of policing. I wanted to investigate crime, using my own skills and that of the forensic science laboratories. I'm fascinated by forensic science and how it's developing, but I was never cut out to be a scientist myself. Investigating a crime, particularly a murder, is painstaking and has to be thorough. I like to put together all the different pieces of the jigsaw that constitute a crime scene, hunt the criminal down and see justice done for the victim, whether it be a robbery or a homicide or any other crime. I'm far happier on the streets than I would've been in a courtroom either prosecuting or defending. Well, that's me! Now let me turn the tables on you. What about you all? Tell me a bit about yourselves. Why did you decide to become a police officer?" He pointed to a young man in the front row wearing the name badge Harrison on his uniform, and that started a lively discussion amongst them all.

And so the session progressed until the bell rang for the end of their first hour-long session. As an introductory session, it felt productive and he was satisfied with how it went. Many of the cadets had spoken and he was pleased that a couple of the female cadets had also spoken up. In a class of thirty there were only 5 female cadets, so he was glad they were prepared to speak up for themselves. He was also pleased to see a couple of the cadets drop slips of paper in the suggestion box marked "Basic Cadets" at the back of the room as they left. He could only hope the next session with the intermediate cadets went as well.

He wasn't disappointed. He gave them almost the same introductory address that he'd given the other cadets, and offered the same one-off opportunity to break the ice with him by asking about his frame and injury. These cadets were somewhat more experienced than the earlier class, so their questions were slightly different but, as it came to an end, he really felt they had made a good start. After they had all left the classroom, he made his own way out and dropped the suggestion boxes into a canvas bag that he carried across his shoulder. He'd realised early on in his incapacity when he first returned to work, that carrying stuff around would be a problem as he needed both hands on his crutches. When choosing an appropriate bag to carry, he'd made every effort to ensure it didn't look like a feminine handbag. No sense giving Norm, or any of the others in the bullpen, any opening to rib him!

By the time he left to return to his office after the end of the second session, he felt drained and he was dying for a cup of caffeine-laced coffee and a sandwich or something else light to eat. He really was quite hungry and was surprised that he'd worked up such an appetite. He stopped off at the staff cafeteria on the first floor on the way and bought a pack of sandwiches. He recognised quite a few of the training officers from his own days at the academy and several spoke to him and he chatted with them briefly, but he preferred to return to his own office to relax and eat rather than sit in the cafeteria, so he quickly excused himself explaining there would be time and opportunity to chat with them another day. For now, he just wanted to relax, take a couple of his painkillers and unwind a little. He really did need a better chair. Leaning for much of the time on the front of his desk had done his back no good at all. He also made a mental note to take a bottle of soda into his next sessions on Friday. The sessions ran back to back with no break. In January, he would have three sessions back to back and he made another mental note to ask Jack if he could have a short break between sessions two and three to give him a chance for a hot drink. He knew the timetables had been worked to fit these sessions in, but three hours talking virtually nonstop without a break was a marathon for anyone. He wasn't so sure his bladder would last out for three hours non-stop either. He just hoped all these 'mental notes' he was making didn't make him sound too demanding.

He was just finishing his sandwich when there was a knock on his door and Jack put his head round the side of the open door. "Can I come in?" he asked.

"Oh yes, please do. Come on in. Take a seat. Help yourself to a drink if you wish."

"No. I'm fine thanks. I just wanted to ask how your first two sessions went? Was it the baptism of fire you were dreading?" he asked.

"Surprisingly not. Once I got over my nerves and initial introduction, and got them all into discussion mode, I think they went really well. I have my two suggestion boxes to go through when I've finished eating this, so I'm hopeful of some good suggestions. I'll stay here till seven tonight, but I'm not sure if any of them will be forward enough to come and see me on the first day, but we'll see. I wanted to ask you about these back-to-back sessions. I think I may need a short break between them if only for a drink or a rest room break. It's pretty thirsty work talking for three hours. Could the timing of the sessions be changed very slightly to allow for that, do you think? Or maybe if someone could just bring me a cup of tea or coffee between sessions. I don't have the speed or agility to just pop to the cafeteria and back in five minutes whilst one class leaves and the other arrives."

"Sure, Steve, we should have thought of that before now. These are all teething troubles we can easily sort out. Perhaps Monica could bring you one up between each session. I'll have a word with her, and I'm sure no-one would object to a few minutes wait between sessions while you pop to the rest room. There's one on the second floor just along the corridor from the classroom. Anything else, or shall we leave it at that for today?" Jack asked.

"No thanks. It's all good. I'll see you again on Friday. Bye, Jack."

"Good night, Steve. You've done well for your first day. I wish I'd thought of that suggestion box. It's a brilliant idea."

"If it works." Steve said drily as he looked directly at Jack and smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure it will do. Bye for now." Jack turned and left the room.

Steve picked up the last piece of his sandwich again and finished it off. He was right about one thing. No-one did knock on his door that evening for a chat, but Steve wasn't disappointed. It was only the first day. They needed to get used to him just as much as he needed to get used to them. He began sorting through the boxes and looking at the slips of paper inside. The first two were from the basic cadet class:

Can you tell someone's lying just by looking at their eyes? What other signs are there?

How do you cope or respond when someone calls you a pig?

The other three were from the intermediate class:

Does it ever worry you that you might make a mistake and arrest the wrong person? How do you live with the guilt of something like that?

You work in homicide. What's it like to deal with death every day of your working life and how do you detach yourself from it?

What's it like to kill someone? I don't know if I'll ever be able to shoot someone. Is it okay to ask if you remember your first time?

Oh, wow! Steve thought. There are some really deep questions there. They're not afraid to ask, are they? Oh well, I asked for them. Now, how to choose what we discuss next.

He spent the next hour or so making a few notes till it was time for him to call a cab and make his way home. He was physically tired and emotionally drained, but he also experienced a strong feeling of satisfaction. It had been a very long day and, as he thought of tomorrow, he felt a day in the office typing reports and making phone enquiries sounded like heaven right at that moment.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Next morning, Steve arrived at Bryant Street at 10.00 am as usual. As he approached his desk, he could see a shiny, red apple sitting right on top of his desk. He stopped and looked at it and then looked over his shoulder directly at Norm Haseejian, who was sitting at his desk nonchalantly looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Norm, what's this, you crazy lummox?"

"What's what?"

"This." He picked the apple up and tossed it in his hand.

"Why are you asking me? You think I put it there? It's a kind enough gesture, but there's others in the office who could have done it besides me." He looked around with a straight face at his fellow officers many of whom were finding it hard to suppress their sniggers.

"Because no-one else is immature enough to think of it."

"It's just an apple, Steve... for the teacher."

"I know what it is, Norm." Steve picked the apple up and suddenly threw it towards Norm, who caught it with lightning-quick reflexes and a lucky catch that surprised Steve.

"Hey, look out. You nearly hit me on the shoulder with that!"

"Nearly isn't good enough. I was aiming for your head! Idiot. You had to have a pop, didn't you? I should've expected it." There was a lot of chuckling amongst the other men but, as Steve took his seat, it soon died down. He glanced across, but Mike wasn't in his office, so he checked the notes left for him on his own desk and settled down to his work.

About ten minutes later, Bill got up from his desk to fetch himself a coffee. On the way back he stopped off at Steve's desk and slightly leaned over to talk quietly to him. "At the risk of getting an apple thrown at me... I just wanted to ask... how did it go yesterday? Was it okay? Were you okay?"

Steve smiled broadly at his friend. "I suppose I shouldn't have thrown the apple at him. I should've known Norm would have a go at me. It was an opportunity too good for him to miss. Mind you... I never expected reflexes like that from him! The Giants could use him next season! About yesterday... thanks for asking, Bill. It was great. Better than I could've hoped for. It's certainly something different, but I think I'm going to enjoy it. It sure beats shuffling papers here," he laughed.

"Good, that's what I was hoping to hear. Take no notice of Norm. He's harmless enough."

"So are flies... but they're darned annoying!" They both laughed as Bill returned to his desk.

It was a good half an hour before Mike walked in and crossed to his room. As he passed Steve's desk, he called out, "Steve, my office please!"

"Oooooh! Is teacher in trouble with the principal then? Maybe you'll get detention, Steve!" It was Norm... again!

As Steve stood and settled himself on his crutches he cast a look back at Norm. "Sergeant, I suggest you get on with your work and mind your own business. You never learn, do you? You're already on shaky ground with me."

"Oooooh! I'm really scared, Inspector... sir!" he called back with a cheeky grin on his face.

Steve made his way into Mike's office, all the while trying to keep a stern look on his face despite the grin that wanted to surface. As he took the proffered chair, he decided not to mention Jeannie and the phone call unless Mike spoke first. No need to stir things up if he didn't have to.

"Well, go on then. Tell me. How did it go? Was it okay or are you wishing you'd never got involved? I nearly rang you last night, but you'd said not to bother and you'd tell me this morning, but I've just been in with Roy, and he asked, and I had to say I didn't know how you'd got on, so I thought I'd better ask as soon as I got back here. Was it nerve-racking or did you manage to keep your nerve and stay professional? I could hardly concentrate yesterday afternoon for worrying about you and wondering and..."

"Mike."

"... I thought of ringing you early this morning instead of last night and then I thought you might be doing your pin site stuff, so I didn't want to..."

"MIKE!"

"What? Don't yell at me! I was only asking!"

"But you're not giving me a chance to get a word in edgeways, Mike! Jeez! It's like 'Twenty Questions' being fired at me... but with no prize at the end."

"You want Twenty Questions? You should try being interrogated by Jeannie! The Spanish Inquisition has nothing on her! I have you to thank for that, hot-shot, so don't complain about my twenty questions till you've had to suffer twenty from her! It's your fault. You promised me you wouldn't say anything and then you go and blab to Jeannie... of all people!"

"Firstly, I promised not to tell any of the guys in the bullpen, I never said anything about not telling Jeannie. And secondly, I didn't blab. I merely mentioned the words 'caught' and 'pants' in a kind of roundabout way and... well... you know what she's like... she doesn't need more than a hint and she's off on one of her ferreting expeditions. You know she should have been a detective. She's worse than you are when she thinks someone's hiding something."

"Don't I know it. I ended up having to tell her what happened, and do you want to know what she did? She laughed! Boy did she laugh! So not only did I have the indignity of tearing my pants and showing my... my... drawers... she knows about it and probably won't ever let me live it down."

"Oh, Mike. I'm sorry," Steve said as he tried to suppress his laughter.

"No, you're not. If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it in the first place. You keep doing this to me, Steve, and it's getting really annoying. I do my best to help you and this is how I get repaid. No respect, that's the problem. You have no respect for your elders and betters..."

"Whoa! Wait a minute, Mike. I respect you. I do. Older... I'll give you that one. Better... well... in rank... maybe yes... but..."

"Careful, Buddy Boy, I haven't filed my annual appraisal on you yet, so just watch what you're saying." He finally laughed out loud. "Enough! You're keeping me in suspense about yesterday and I'm dying to know how it went."

"Well, it went okay. Really well, in fact. Mind you, I was more nervous than a pig in a bacon factory when I arrived, but Jack helped to settle me down, and I have this really nice young lady called Monica to assist me…"

"Oh, a really nice young lady... eh... to assist you... huh!"

"... to assist me with admin, Mike! I met her briefly, and for your information she's engaged to be married."

"You found all that out from a brief introduction? I knew you were quick but... wow... that's amazing!"

"Will you just shut up and listen! Do you want to know how I got on or not?"

"Okay... okay... keep your hair on. Carry on. Where were we? Oh yes... a lovely young lady called Monica. Sounds like a limerick in the making." Mike's eyes twinkled.

"For crying out loud, Mike! You're not taking this seriously, so I might just as well get up and go." Steve made to stand up and leave, but Mike waved a hand towards him indicating he was to stay where he was.

"I'm sorry. Don't get huffy. Just sit yourself down. You were about to tell me what Monica... er... did for you to... er... calm you down." Mike raised his eyebrows and grinned wickedly.

"Jeez, I give up with you! Here's the potted version... I was nervous, my opening speech went well, the cadets were great, the sessions went well, no-one came for a personal chat on the first day, and I came home. If you want any more details you'll have to wait to catch me in a better mood because, between you and Norm, I've had enough for one day." And with that said Steve got himself up on his crutches and walked out of Mike's room and straight out of the bullpen.

Mike watched him go and realised he'd taken the jesting a little too far. Steve was naturally strung up after yesterday and he hadn't helped. He'd thought a bit of fun would lighten the mood, but it had had the opposite effect and Steve simply thought he was making fun of him. He left it five minutes, then he left the office and headed to the rest room along the corridor, but Steve wasn't there. Where on earth was he then? He went down to the entrance lobby and looked outside to see Steve leaning against a wall drinking coffee that he'd obviously bought from the coffee shop in the lobby. Mike slowly approached him and leant at the side of him with his back on the wall.

"I'm sorry. I was all fired up and excited to hear how it went and I guess I got a bit too carried away with my jocularity and facetiousness."

"Those are big words coming from you, Mike." Steve kept his gaze straight ahead and not at Mike. He didn't laugh or even smile at Mike's attempt to humour him, but just drank his coffee.

"I know what they mean, too. I'm sorry, I really was only trying to lighten the mood and I took it too far."

"I know. I guess I was too touchy." Still no look towards Mike.

"Go on, please tell me. No more joking. I really do want to know how you got on."

Steve finally glanced briefly at Mike and sighed deeply. "Like I said, it went well. I was pleasantly surprised how easy the sessions went. Both classes are a great bunch. They were a bit slow to get going but once they did they seemed pleased to have me there and we had some lively discussions. They've given me some ideas for our next session on Friday. Some of the questions they came up with are light, and others, well they're pretty deep, but I think I can handle them okay. Like I said before, no-one came for a personal chat but it's early days. There are one or two teething problems but they're easy to sort out and either Jack or... or Monica... will help me with that." He cast a quick sideways glance at Mike.

"About Monica... no, don't look at me like that, I'm serious. Is this a secretary they've given you?"

"Not solely to me. She works in administration and she's been allocated to help me with office work like typing or photocopying... just general things... nothing more."

"So, about Friday. Will you be as nervous again or will you now be more relaxed?"

"Oh, much more relaxed... as long as certain people don't wind me up!" He looked sideways at Mike and finally relaxed his face into a smile.

"And it wasn't too much for you... you know... stress-wise? I so want you to have more than just office work, but I just worry that I may have pushed you to take on too much." Mike asked worriedly as a deep frown creased his brow.

"No, it's fine. They were fine... I'm fine... in fact... we're all fine," he laughed. "Stop worrying will you. I'll tell you if it gets too much. I promise. Come on. We'd better get back in before someone sends for the SWAT team to sort us out." He pushed off the wall and steadied himself on his crutches.

"You know, Buddy Boy, I sometimes forget what a trial it must be for you to be stuck on one leg and crutches all the time week in and week out. It must be exhausting for you. You've had it pretty tough over the last few weeks what with one thing and another, and I don't think I make enough allowances for how taxing your lack of mobility must be."

"I don't want allowances made, Mike. I manage okay. Yes it's tiring, but it's the limitations and restrictions to getting about that gets to me more than the tiring side. Sometimes the sheer effort involved, and the complexity needed to do even the simplest things, gets to me, but that's down to me to find a way to cope. It'll be easier when I can take some weight on my left leg, and easier still when the frame eventually comes off. I just have to be patient I suppose." And he swung forward and walked beside Mike into the lobby with Mike's hand resting lightly, but comfortingly, on his shoulder.

With working at the academy on Mondays and Fridays, and being limited to only thirty hours a week, this really cut into his time at the office, so he had to slightly adjust what he did there. It was no good making enquiries on a Thursday that he wouldn't be there to follow up till Tuesday, so he concentrated more on reports and record keeping and less on the complicated enquiries. It was boring but necessary and, overall, the work he was doing was still invaluable. The other officers felt the benefit and were grateful for his help, as he was relieving them of some of the more monotonous and mundane tasks. He also had time at home to prepare for his next sessions, but there wasn't a great deal to prepare just yet. Perhaps the questions would get more specific as time went on but, for the moment, he wanted the cadets to feel that their time together had freedom to develop naturally, and to be able to move in any direction that their talks took them.

When he went up to the classroom on Friday shortly before the class was due to start, he saw a new chair in the room with arms and a padded seat and padded back. There was also a large footstool. Perfect. There was enough room on the dais to set it off to the side, so he could easily see the cadets. He moved to the blackboard and wrote on it:

Can you tell someone's lying just by looking at their eyes? What other signs are there?

How do you cope or respond when someone calls you a pig?

These were the questions that had been placed in the suggestion box on Monday, so he felt it would give them a basis to start their session. As the cadets filed in he was pleased to see them all wearing the name tags he'd asked them to make.

After his initial greeting he kicked the discussion off. "These are the suggestions that were put in the box I left at the back last session. Shall we assume them to be a good starting point?"

The session began and soon Steve had them enthralled by the mimicry he was doing of a suspect trying to hide his lies. "It's not just his or her eyes that will give a person away, although they are a great indicator of nervousness especially if they avoid eye contact. Often a liar will blush or smile a fake smile when the smile never reaches their eyes. Watch their lips... they may lick them occasionally or even a lot. Watch their throat for excess swallowing. They may fiddle with buttons on their clothing or their cuffs. They may tap their feet or swing their leg. All kinds of small movements can give them away. But... you have to be careful, because an innocent person being questioned will also show many of these movements or ticks just from sheer fear of being put under the spotlight. The trick is to know the difference and to be sure of your facts before you begin interviewing them. Now, that's enough from me. I want to hear what you think." The discussion then progressed on to the cadets selecting other nuances they could come up with and there was a lot of fun between them, but Steve managed to keep it under control and on sensible lines.

Later they moved on to the question of cops being called pigs or any other derogatory names. "It's unpleasant, but it's a hazard of the job, and you just have to learn how to suck it up. You can't stop them shooting their mouths off, so it's basically up to you to learn how to control your temper and not let it rile you. Let's do a little role-play. One of you can be the perp and the other can be the cop." Again, the discussion progressed and there was quite a bit of fun between them. If it got a little heated in the role-play, Steve would step in with suggestions for how to cool the situation down and for the one playing the cop to take control.

"You've clearly had training in other classes on how to defuse potentially volatile situations, but every bit of practice helps. Role-play like this is the safe way to learn and gain experience, but it's no substitute for the real thing. I can't give you that here but when you get out on the streets on your attachments, you'll have to learn real fast or go under. Never... but never... be afraid to ask for advice from other officers. Never think you know it all already because, believe me, you don't. I learn something every day."

A couple of other points were raised and dealt with before the session ended, and by the time the bell went Steve felt he'd made definite progress, not only in the discussions, but also in beginning to get to know the cadets personally and something of their individual characters.

He wiped the blackboard clean and was writing the next three questions on the board for his next group when Monica came in carrying a mug of coffee.

"Monica, you're an angel. Thanks," he smiled broadly at her as she put the coffee down on his desk.

"How's it going? Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, I am. It's so different to what I'm used to, and the cadets seem to enjoy it too. I just hope I'm having some effect. Sorry, but I need to get these next questions on the board before the next batch come in."

She smiled at him. "I'd better leave you to get on with it then. See you later."

Steve wrote the next three questions on the blackboard and shortened them a little due to lack of time.

Do you worry you about making a mistake and arresting the wrong person? How do you live with the guilt?

What's it like to deal with death every day and how do you detach yourself from it?

What's it like to kill someone? Do you remember your first time?

As the students filed in they saw the questions on the board and immediately began talking amongst themselves. Steve immediately took charge and the discussions began. These questions were a lot deeper than the previous ones and Steve had to give a lot of himself to answer them as truthfully as he could.

"The first question is asking in particular about arresting the wrong person. I want to discuss the separate question of making general mistakes in your work at a later date. In the instance of making an arrest, it is your job as a police officer to investigate and draw together all the elements and evidence of the crime to build your case. You check and double check everything. This is a person's life and ultimate freedom you're dealing with. You owe it to them to get it right. If they're guilty they deserve to be taken off the streets for the sake of society. If they're not guilty then they have to go free. We don't try the case. We just collect the evidence and put it before the public prosecutor to present the case to a jury. As long as the evidence is legally and properly collected and points to that person as the guilty party, then it goes to trial and it's up to the jury to reach a verdict. As a police officer we are not judge or jury. There's also the question that if the wrong person is convicted, then how do we live with that? Ultimately, it's the jury that decides, but they can only make their decision on the evidence that we've provided them with, so it's up to us, as the initial investigators, to make sure that the evidence is rock-solid before it's presented to the prosecutor. After that, it's out of our hands. Of course we're only human and mistakes are sometimes made in the evidence we provide. Let me turn the tables on you. How do you think you would live with the guilt and what would you do about it?" Again, there was much discussion on the topic, and Steve could tell there was slightly more knowledge and maturity in this group as they bandied ideas and opinions about. Some of the cadets were more inclined to take part than others who remained quieter, but he didn't see any that didn't appear interested. He began to make mental notes of those that he felt needed to be drawn in more in future discussions. If he wasn't careful a certain few would always take the lead, but Steve wanted everyone to participate.

"Now, let's look at detaching yourself from death when you deal with it every day. In homicide that's my job, but when you first leave the academy I'm hoping you get to deal with a lot more mundane matters like traffic offences and drunks on street corners before you get to the hardcore stuff. Having said that, who knows, you could encounter a death on your first day. It doesn't matter whether the victim has died a violent death as the result of a crime, or as the result of a road accident. Death is death. It comes to us all in time and, as police officers, you will meet with someone's death on an all too frequent basis, depending on what department you ultimately end up in. In homicide I deal with it every day. Some people ask me if it's a terribly depressing job. No, it isn't, because my job isn't about dealing with the corpse from an emotional point of view, and you can't allow your job to be that either. You have to deal with the corpse as a piece of evidence in the form of its own demise. A cop's job is to investigate the cause of death, the reason why and by whom, and that's the most fascinating part of the job. You can't do that if you have tears pouring down your face and can't talk properly for sobbing. You have to remain detached. The key is to be respectful and mindful that the corpse is someone's loved one, but you have to remain detached and coldly clinical enough to carry out your investigation. There's many a time when I've held it all back during the day, and then gone home and just shut myself away and let it all go, especially if it's the tragic death of a child, but you can't carry the weight of everyone's death on your shoulders. This is a job. You have a life to live outside your job, and you have to learn to compartmentalise yourself and your feelings and switch off when you go home. Now let's throw it open again." This was a much trickier question to discuss and debate. Most of these cadets were under the age of twenty-five. Many of them had never had any contact with death at all, and several had never even seen a dead body until they'd been taken to the morgue as part of their course. It made for a very interesting and deep discussion and he hoped the cadets learnt something from it that they hadn't learnt from their previous classes.

"The final question is an extremely personal one. Have I ever killed someone?" Steve paused and looked slowly across every face in the room then took a deep breath. "Yes, I have... and more than once. I'm a police officer and, sadly, it sometimes goes with the territory. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's something that had to be done at the time. Whenever this happens, there's always an investigation afterwards to decide if it was a justifiable killing and thankfully, to date, I have always been exonerated of blame. In a way, that does make it easier to deal with, but it doesn't take away the guilt that I was the one responsible for ending a person's life. There is always counselling to be gone through afterwards. This may be one session with a clinical psychologist, or it may require several sessions to get you back on track, but you can never ever be blasé about taking a person's life. It's never easy to get over, so never refuse the help that's available to you. I've had to learn that the hard way. Sometimes I've thought I could cope and, most of the time I can, but occasionally it gets to me and there's no choice but to ask for help to get myself through it. It's not a sign of weakness to ask for help. It's the sensible thing to do. To take a person's life is the worst feeling ever, but, sometimes not taking that person's life could be worse still, because they may go on to take other innocent lives and how would you feel if you knew your actions could have stopped them? Your trainers on the firing range and in class, will go through the scenarios and procedures that you ultimately need to consider before you ever take that shot. They will also discuss with you if it's possible to defuse a potentially lethal situation by shooting to wound rather than kill. But what if shooting to wound puts you, or someone else, in more danger than if you had taken that fateful shot? You have maybe a split second to decide. What do you do? That's enough from me. Now, I'm throwing the subject open to you. Tell me how you feel about this." This was the most difficult topic discussed that day. Steve kept control once more and helped them talk through their fears and, again, he hoped he'd played some small part in helping the cadets prepare for what was ahead of them. One young cadet called Andy, who sat quietly at the back of the group, had caught his eye. He wasn't participating in this part of the discussion at all, but Steve could see he was avidly listening to all that was being said. Steve could tell this subject was bothering him more than any of the others, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on this young man.

Discussions such as these were what set the pattern for his days at the academy over the weeks and months ahead. Every session a few suggestions would be put in the box as the cadets left, and Steve would look at them afterwards. If there were one or two he'd put them all up on the board. If there were too many to discuss them all, he would allow the cadets to choose the two or three subjects that they felt most strongly about. If it was a very emotive topic or very detailed, sometimes they would only get through one in a session, but what Steve wanted more than anything was to know that where they had concerns, those concerns were listened to and talked through. That tactic seemed to work well, and Steve's wishes that most discussions should be cadet led seemed to be justified.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Later that afternoon Steve was sitting in his office at the academy about an hour before he was due to leave to go home, when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called and the door slowly opened and a young cadet stepped hesitantly into the room. It was Andy.

"Is it alright if I... er... ask you something, sir?" He spoke falteringly and was clearly very nervous.

"Sure it is. Come on in and take a seat... and the name's Steve. I told you I don't mind you using my first name, you know." Steve flicked the switch on his desk that put the engaged light on outside his office door.

Andy crossed the room and took the chair opposite Steve's desk, but it was clear from the way he sat on the edge of the seat and kept his back straight, that he wasn't relaxed at all.

Steve spoke first. "Would you mind if I made a cup of coffee before we chat. I was just going to have one. Perhaps you'd like to join me. It's only instant I'm afraid, but it makes a decent enough cup." Steve began to rise from his chair then changed his mind. "Better still... would you mind making it for me to save me getting up? Make one for yourself too... or tea... if you prefer."

"Oh... er... not at all. I'd be glad to. How do you like it?"

"Cream and one sugar please. They've kindly given me some cream as well as milk. All the comforts of home. Make yours however you wish. How do you feel the sessions are going, Andy? Are you finding them helpful or am I casting my net into empty waters?" he asked quietly hoping his easy chat was relaxing the younger man.

"Oh, I think everyone's really enjoying them. It's more relaxed and we can let our inhibitions go a little more than in the more formal lessons." He carried the drinks across and passed one to Steve and returned to his own seat.

"Well, that's good to hear. That's what I was aiming for... a more relaxed atmosphere and a friendly approach." They sat quietly for a short while as Andy nervously fidgeted with his mug of coffee, then Steve spoke again. "Andy, are you going to tell me what's bothering you.? I'm here to listen and help if I can."

Andy adjusted his position in his chair, hunching over slightly and holding his coffee cup tightly and close to his chest. "I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a cop. In fact, I know I'm not, and I don't know how to get myself out of it. I'm in too deep and it would upset too many people if I just upped and left now. I should never have let myself get pushed into it. It was never what I wanted."

"So why did you let yourself get pushed into it?"

"It's a family tradition thing. My grandfather was a cop, and then when my dad came back from Europe after the war he became a cop, and then later his brother... er... my uncle... joined up too. Then my older brother followed them into the department four years ago and it was just expected that I would do the same, but... it's not what I want! I just don't feel it's right for me. The longer I'm here at the academy, and the more we study and learn about policing, the more I want to just pack it in. What we talked about today... making mistakes, detaching yourself from death and then... then shooting someone. I can't do it. I just can't!"

"Then don't. If it's not what you want, then don't let yourself be pressured into doing something you're not going to enjoy. Andy, your job... that place that you go to every day of your working life... has to be enjoyable. It has to give you job satisfaction, else what's the point? You can't do a job you hate just to please someone else. Is it just the fear of not being able to shoot someone or take a life that's bothering you, because, believe me, you're not on your own? That's something we all go through. Or... can I ask if it's to do with religious beliefs that you hold?"

"No, it's not down to any specific belief that I hold. I just can't face the thought of having to take a life."

"Well, we can talk through that some more to help you reach a better understanding, or I can speak to someone to get you the help you need to understand how to approach and accept that part of the job better. Or is it something else that's bothering you? Is it the whole concept of being a cop that's not for you?"

"The shooting, and possibly killing, is the main part I suppose, but it's not just that. I just don't want to be a cop but, if I had to be, then I thought, when I qualified, I could maybe ask for a transfer to the dog-handling division, or something off the main stream of policing, but I'd need to be a cop for a while before they'd allow me to do that and, even then, they may not agree, and it's still not what I want anyway. It's the whole thing... being a cop... it's just not for me." Andy was so worked up and trembling so much he was in danger of spilling his coffee, so he put his mug down on the desk.

"Do your parents know how you feel? Have you talked to them, or are they so rigid that you feel you can't talk to them... that they wouldn't understand how you feel?"

"No,I haven't said anything. They're not exactly rigid, but my dad is very fixed in his ways and it's always been accepted that I would be a cop, and I think... no... I know... it would disappoint them if I jacked it all in now."

"Okay, let's change tack a little. What kind of job is for you? What do you want to do with your life? Do you know, or is it anything except to be a cop?"

"Well, I used to think I'd like to be a doctor but, although my grades were good, they were never good enough for medicine and, anyway, my parents couldn't afford to put me through years of college and medical school. I like helping people so I thought of maybe going into some kind of social care, but I think my dad would feel I was opting out for an easier life."

"That's interesting. What about nursing? Have you thought of that?"

"Oh, no, that wouldn't work. My dad would think that was a woman's job."

"Believe me, I've spent more time in hospital than I care to think about, and I can assure you the nursing service needs more male nurses. In the same way that more women are looking to policing as a career, more and more men are going into nursing these days, but it's still not enough. It's not a soft option I can assure you. It's the mid 70's and times and attitudes towards the more female dominated professions have to change, and they are changing... slowly." Steve paused and considered his next words. "Okay, so maybe not nursing. There are plenty other jobs in caring professions that you could do. I've just spent time with physical therapists getting me back on my feet again... well onto crutches... but both of them were men and they love their jobs. Or what about paramedics? Ambulance drivers don't just drive ambulances these days. They're being much more highly trained to give front-line support to patients before they reach hospital. Again, I can speak from first hand experience. There are loads of other options out there, Andy, you just have to go out and look for them and find what you think is right for you. But first... first... you have to tell your parents you want to give up on their idea of you being a cop. I'm sure they love you and they'll only want what's best for you."

"I know I have to speak to them. I hadn't thought of those options. I guess you're right. There are jobs out there that would be worthwhile and enormously satisfying. Both those last options sound good. I hadn't thought of being a paramedic."

"I can see I've maybe whetted your appetite in that direction... but there's loads of other options out there. Believe me when I say I know what an enormous decision it is to jack in a course that you've been studying in order to follow your dream. It's not easy. Talk to your parents, Andy. The Christmas break is coming up. It's a season of love and goodwill in families. Choose your moment carefully... not when others are around... and talk to your Mom and Dad privately. Tell them how unhappy you are training for something you don't enjoy. Get them on your side. It's your life, Andy. You have to do what's best for you. They'll come round, given time."

"Thank you for listening. You've given me a lot to think about, and it's really helped me an awful lot. I'll do what you suggest. What's the worst that could happen? They may be disappointed, but they won't kick me out of the family. They love me too much for that. Can I come and see you again and tell you how I get on? Would you mind?"

"Of course, you can come again, and of course I don't mind. I'm only too glad to help, and if I can offer any further advice, or even practical help, I will do. Just don't jump into the first job opportunity that comes along. Give it some thought. If you wanted to consider something like physical therapy I'm sure I could ask Rick to speak to you if you'd like some inside information. Just let me know and I'll fix something up. And, I think you'll need to speak to Lieutenant Sage or Captain Lyle at some point too. Do you want me to speak to them first?"

"Not yet, no. I'll speak to my parents first before I speak to them. I just need to get it straight in my head that this is really what I want."

"Okay, I think that's probably best. Go home and get your thoughts and intentions clear in your head first, then speak to your parents."

Andy stood and reached across the desk to shake Steve's hand. "Thanks a lot, sir... I mean... Steve. I'm glad they arranged for you to come here. You've helped a lot and you've given me loads to think about." He turned to leave the room but turned back briefly as Steve spoke again.

"Andy, before you consider everyone else you have to put number one first. This is your life... your career... not theirs. Got it?"

"Got it. Thanks." And a subdued, but thoughtful, young cadet left Steve's office.

It was almost time for Steve to leave to go home. Andy had been the only cadet to approach him this evening, but he felt it had been very worthwhile. Steve's first counselling session was over and he could only hope that what he'd said had helped a very troubled young man, and that he would be able to talk to his parents and reach an amicable outcome. His first foray into giving one-to-one personal advice seemed to have gone down well... at least he hoped so. By the end of this second session, Steve was a much happier man as he approached the weekend. His work at the academy was as interesting as the office work was mundane but, by doing both and doing them well, Steve felt more certain that he was heading on the right road and able to attain fulfilling and acceptable job satisfaction for the period of his convalescence.

The next week was the last before the Christmas break and Jeannie was due home on Thursday evening. Steve had two more sessions that week, and topics concentrated on diverse subjects such as working closely with their peers as a team, how the job affects family life especially for those who are married or in relationships, and providing back-up for the other emergency services. Steve was finding that much of what the cadets raised to be discussed was not actually part of the set curriculum, so they were finding these sessions with Steve a chance to bring up subjects that interested or bothered them.

On Thursday evening, Jeannie's bus got in from Arizona and Steve went with Mike to meet it. As she stepped down and hurried into her father's arms, Steve couldn't help feeling a tug on his heartstrings to see such open love between the two of them. Then Jeannie turned to Steve and threw herself at him with innocent abandon. She kissed him fiercely on his cheek and hugged him so hard he almost lost his balance.

"Hi, babe. I've missed you. You're looking so much better than the last time I saw you." Her eyes roved over him and then she smiled up at him.

"I would hope so. The last time you saw me I had a busted lip and tooth. I'm all healed up now and back at work... well apart from my leg. How about you? You're looking so good... a real sight for sore eyes."

Mike watched both his favourite people and the interaction between them. He could never weigh these two up. They clearly liked each other, but he wondered if there was more brewing between them than he was aware of. They both knew he didn't like the idea of Jeannie dating a cop but, though they were very close, they never seemed to cross the invisible boundary from friendship to something more. Maybe he was wrong and they were just good friends. "Come on, you two. You can carry on this meeting of the mutual admiration society when we get home. I'll get your bags from the driver, Jeannie."

Steve made his way over to the car with Jeannie, while Mike collected her bags and stowed them in the trunk. Mike pulled the car away and they chatted as they drove back. After a couple of minutes Steve asked, "Mike, would you drop me off at my place, please?"

"What? You don't want to come back with us? Did word get round that I'd made meat loaf? I know it's not as good as Jeannie's, but I followed her recipe," asked Mike with a puzzled frown on his face.

"It's not the thought of your meat loaf that's putting me off at all. You haven't seen Jeannie for several weeks and you need some time alone together. I can catch up with Jeannie tomorrow or at the weekend. Anyway, I have some stuff I need to look over for the last classes tomorrow," Steve explained.

"How's it going at the academy, Steve? You must tell me all about it," Jeannie asked from the back seat of the car.

"Oh, it's going okay, I think. Early feedback reports sound good anyway."

Mike laughed. "You know, Jeannie. I never thought I'd see him as a teacher, but it seems to suit him."

"Will you quit calling me a teacher." Steve said with exasperation in his tone. "How many more times do I have to say it? I am not a teacher."

"Well, for want of a better word, I say you are," Mike countered. "Right, here's where we drop you off. Are you sure you won't change your mind and join us, Steve? You're more than welcome."

"No, it's fine, Mike. Thanks. Enjoy your evening together. I'll see you sometime on Saturday, Mike. I'm at home all morning tomorrow, Jeannie, if you want to pop round."

"How about I use Mike's car and I'll come over and see you for coffee, and then drive you to the academy tomorrow afternoon instead of you taking a cab?"

"Okay. That sounds like a plan. I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight, both of you." As usual Mike waited to see Steve was safe at the top of his steps before he drove off.

"Is he really doing okay, Mike?" Jeannie asked as she watched Steve climb the steps much more confidently than she'd seen him do it a few weeks ago. "I know he wasn't too sure about taking the post in the first place."

"From what I hear from Captain Lyle at the academy, he's doing really well, and they're really pleased with the feedback that they're getting from the cadets themselves. They don't have trainers sitting in on his classes, so that's the only feedback they can get, but it all seems positive. He's also working three short days a week back in the office, so his schedule is pretty heavy at the moment. He doesn't know it, but I'm keeping a close eye on him to see that he's not overdoing it. I must admit I'm very pleased with how he's handling it all. It never ceases to amaze me that he can cope with whatever gets thrown at him." Mike pulled the car up outside his house and carried Jeannie's bag up and put it in her room, and they spent the rest of the evening in each other's company. Jeannie declared the meat loaf a success, and they washed the pots up together then settled to chat until bedtime. Eventually Mike stood and turned off the table lamp.

"Come on. You've had a long journey today. Time for bed. I may be gone before you get up tomorrow, so have a good morning with Steve. Don't forget he has work to do, so don't get distracting him too much with your womanly guiles." He laughed at the stunned expression on his daughter's face.

"I have no idea what you may be implying, Mike, but I've told you before that Steve and I are just friends and I have no intention of taking things any further... and neither does he. He's like a brother to me and I'm happy to keep it that way."

"Fine... if you say so. Goodnight, honey, it's good to have you home."

"It's so good to be home too. Goodnight, Mike."


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Steve was up early and got his exercises, shower and pin site care done and then got dressed all by 9.00 am. He had no idea how early Jeannie would be, but he wanted to be ready. He ate his breakfast and washed up his few pots then tidied his living room. He was avidly reading his daily papers when his doorbell rang.

"It's open. Come right in," he called, and Jeannie breezed in like a breath of fresh air.

"Morning, Steve. I was up early so I thought I'd just come on over and hope you were ready. It's a beautiful day considering it's December... too good to waste indoors. What say we go to Golden Gate Park and feed the ducks. I've been clearing out Mike's cupboard and I've got a bag of waste cookies in the car and, if that's not enough, we can buy some proper duck food from the kiosk by the lake."

"Okay, fine. I'll go along with that. Some fresh air sounds great. We can get lunch at the café in the park too before I have to head off to the academy." Steve grabbed his jacket and put it on and locked his front door and left. It didn't take long to get there. Jeannie parked in the parking lot adjacent to the lake, and they began to stroll, feeding the ducks as they went along.

They chatted together amiably, and Jeannie was interested to hear all about what Steve was doing with the cadets at the academy. He knew Mike had kept quiet to Jeannie about the PTSD, and he had no intention of bringing it up. Besides, since starting at the academy he had a new purpose in his life, even though it was temporary. The depression he was in danger of falling into after the accident had lifted considerably, and he felt good. His days were so full now and, rather than feeling swamped, he was more invigorated than he'd been for a long while with the new challenges he encountered every day. That's not to say he was completely out of the woods yet. There were times when the dark days and anxieties crept up on him unexpectedly, especially in the dark hours of the night, but his occasional sessions with Lenny were gradually sorting him out.

"You're enjoying your stint at the academy aren't you?" Jeannie asked as they rested on a bench and she tucked her arm through his.

"Yes, strangely enough I am. It's given some purpose to my life for the next few months while I'm side-lined from my normal duties with your dad. I know I see him most days, but it's not the same as being his partner... and I miss him... but the simple fact is that I can't work in homicide on regular duties at the moment, so general office duties, combined with working at the academy, are the next best thing. It's better than sitting at home doing your jigsaws." He gently nudged her in the ribs and chuckled.

There was quite a stiff breeze blowing and she was quite cold so she snuggled closer to him as she laughed with him. "I knew you'd struggle with it when I gave it to you. Go on... admit it... one thousand pieces was just too much for you."

"It wasn't the size of the jigsaw, it was the awkwardness of having to sit on the floor under the coffee table that was the killer. I found I was numb in places I never knew existed, and have you any idea how much effort is involved in getting up off the floor with the use of only one leg and a couple of crutches?" he laughed, and she snuggled in even closer. It gave him a lovely, warm feeling to be snuggled up with Jeannie on the park bench, but it was one of pure friendship rather than one with subtle undertones of anything more.

"I really admire you, Steve. You don't let anything stop you doing what you want to do, and nothing seems to get you down does it?" she asked.

"Oh, believe me, things do get me down from time to time, but it is what it is, Jeannie, and I just have to make the most of it. Good or bad, it's all experience. I'm getting a lot more out of the academy than I thought I would and I just hope I'm making a difference, but only time will tell. When we start back after the Christmas break I'll have another class to take along with the ones I'm taking now. The basics and the intermediates will move up and I'll get a new intake of basic cadets. That'll be a bit different because the ones I've been dealing with already have several weeks of training under their belts. These new ones are raw recruits, so I'm expecting it to be more of a challenge. Anyway, enough about me. How about you? Tell me about you and your course. How were the exams? Do you think you did okay with them?"

"Oh, the course is okay, and I'm reasonably happy with what I did in the exams. My marks were pretty good, so I must be doing something right." She laughed up at him as she sat by his side.

"What about your love-life? Are you still seeing that guy... Douglas...er... Dougal..."

"Donald? No, we only went out a few times but he wasn't for me. The most exciting thing about him was that he liked to make montage pictures from bits of coloured silver paper. I found he was only buying me boxes of sweets to get the silver wrappers. When I told him I didn't even like the sweets he was buying, he dropped me! Can you believe that?" Her laughter rang lightly in his ear. "I've had a couple of dates with a guy called Bruce, but it was destined not to last... thank goodness. He's Scottish and was over here on an exchange visit, but he's gone back to Scotland now. He was a nice enough guy, but his accent was so strong I couldn't understand a word he said, so our conversations consisted of him telling me all about his day and me saying 'excuse me?' over and over again. He kept raising his voice because I'm sure he thought I was partially deaf. What a life... eh?" She was chuckling warmly by now and Steve was laughing along with her.

"Oh, Jeannie. You do make me laugh. I don't know who to feel more sorry for... you or Bruce."

She dug him in the ribs in fun. "I'm getting cold. Let's walk some more." As Steve rose from the bench and steadied himself she spoke again. "What about you? You've not mentioned anyone in particular, but I can't believe you don't have any nubile young ladies on the horizon?"

Steve gave Jeannie a jokingly leering look. "Ah ha, you know me too well. I thought I had a thing going with Lisa but it fizzled out after a few weeks. Same old story! She couldn't cope with a cop's life. So, no, there's no-one at the moment." He pointed to his frame. "Anyway, I think this is enough to scare anyone off, and I think romance would probably pose a bit of a logistical nightmare don't you?" He burst out laughing as Jeannie suddenly stopped and a puzzled look on her face suddenly changed to an embarrassed look as the penny dropped.

"Oh!... Oh my word... yes," she sniggered. "I guess it would pose a problem, unless of course someone wanted to study the 'nuts and bolts' of it. Maybe you need someone with a macabre sense of humour I suppose, or maybe someone into heavy metal music!" By this time both of them were laughing so hard their sides were aching and Jeannie was rocking and holding on to his arm tightly.

Steve struggled to speak through his laughter. "You idiot. You'll have me over if you're not careful." As Jeannie looped her arm lightly through Steve's again he continued. "I do miss you when you're away, you know. You really know how to make me laugh, and your naivety means you don't even have to try that hard. Oh, I don't know... maybe we should just forget about looking around for the love of our lives and just hook up together. What do you think? Would it work?" Steve was still laughing as he looked intently at Jeannie trying to gauge her reaction, but she knew there was no real seriousness in his question.

"Nah! We're much too close for that. It would be like hooking up with my brother! Yuck! And anyway, you're becoming far too much like a mini-Mike. I have enough trouble with one Mike in my life let alone two."

"Who me? A mini-Mike? I'm not sure I like that description. You make me sound like a beach buggy." And they fell about laughing again. "Mind you, I suppose there's worse things to be than a mini-Mike... as long as I don't start wearing a fedora and a woollen vest!" And that quip started them off all over again, and they had to stop and hold onto each other as Steve's laughter was so strong he was in danger of losing his balance and falling over. Finally they regained control of themselves and Steve took his trusty white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes and handed it to Jeannie to do the same.

She held the handkerchief up. "See what I mean... you're a mini-Mike!"

"Oh jeez, Jeannie, don't start me off again. I have a class to take this afternoon and I won't be able to keep a straight face. You're the best tonic I could have. I do love you, you know. You're like the kid sister I never had."

"Ha ha! I'm glad we sorted that out," she laughed. "Come on, big brother, let's walk some more."

For the next hour or so they laughed and chatted companionably, walking and frequently sitting on one of the benches around the lake to give Steve a rest. They had a light lunch in the little café by the lake, and then it was time for Steve to have to leave for the academy, so Jeannie drove him there and dropped him off.

Over the next few days, and through Christmas, Jeannie and Mike welcomed Steve into their home and shared the festivities with him. Jeannie did her last minute shopping for food till Mike's fridge and freezer were heaving, and she baked pies and prepared food for them all. The struggle up Mike's steps was well worth the reward of delicious food and company at the end of the steep climb, and Steve was determined not to let a few steps defeat him. Both Mike and Steve had elected to work over the main days of the holiday to allow other officers to be with their young families on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but they shared their evenings all together either at Union Street or De Haro Street, and it was a very happy time for them all.

Whilst Steve and Mike were at work, Jeannie relaxed at home and spent time catching up with her friends. She also made sure both her father and Steve had several home-made casseroles and pies in their freezers to keep them going for a while after she went back to college.

The academy started back after the holidays a lot earlier than Jeannie's college did, so she occasionally took it upon herself to act as cab driver for Steve. This meant they could spend more time together as Steve was kept busy every week day both with his classes and his work at Bryant Street. On his first day back at the academy he went in early and, shortly after his arrival, there was a knock on his door and a young man entered when Steve called. It was Andy and he was dressed in ordinary day clothes.

"Hi, Steve. Do you have a moment?"

"Sure... sure. Come on in. I was thinking about you last night and wondering whether you'd be back in class or not. How's things?"

"Well, I spoke to my parents and explained everything to them and they were naturally disappointed at first, but then really understanding. In fact my dad really surprised me at how well he took it. He said he would've liked me to follow him into the police department but not if it wasn't what I wanted, but he was pleased I'd at least given it a try. We had a good talk and discussed my options, and I've decided to try for the ambulance department, hoping to maybe become a paramedic one day. I've made enquiries and I have an interview next week. I've also spoken to Lieutenant Sage and he's offered to put in a good word for me."

"I'm really pleased for you, Andy, and I'm glad my advice helped. I think you'll do well... especially if it's something you actually enjoy doing. If you need a written reference I'd be happy to supply one, though if Lieutenant Sage is speaking up for you, I'm sure you'll get on the course."

"I hope so. I've set my heart on it now but, if I don't get on, there are other options I can look into like you said. Anyway, I won't hold you up any longer. I just wanted to let you know and to say thank you. You were a great help and I won't forget it." He shook Steve's hand.

"It was my pleasure, Andy. If I achieve nothing else in my time here this will have made it all worthwhile. I'll maybe see you around sometime... but not in the back of an ambulance, I hope! Bye and good luck." As he watched the young man close the door behind him he felt good in himself. The police department's loss would hopefully be the ambulance department's gain, and Steve could foresee an excellent paramedic in the making. He left his office and made his way upstairs to begin the new semester.

He found the new intake of basic cadets to be more demanding than he expected. Some of them were finding it hard to adapt to life at the academy and made good use of the private chats with Steve. His classes with them were very broadly based as they hadn't yet gained sufficient knowledge to require any kind of in-depth technical talks.

The time came at the end of the second week of January for Steve to see Dr Truman again for his checkup. He had an X ray two days before his appointment and then Dr Truman gave him a good examination, made a few adjustments again to the frame, and studied the X ray with him and explained what he saw. He could clearly see a good fusion of new bone growth around the fracture sites.

"I'm really pleased with that progress, Steve, and I'm happy to say that you can now begin partial weight bearing, but only on the ball of your foot. I'd like you to go along to the PT room and see either Rick Garcia or Tom Webster for their advice on how much you can do at the moment. They'll also check the strength of the muscles and ligaments in your left leg and give you some new exercises to do. I did warn them that you'd be coming to see them so, if you can pop along now, one or other of them should be able to see you. As for me, well, I'll see you again in another six weeks. By then I'm hoping we can dispense with one of the crutches altogether and allow you to fully weight bear for possibly another six weeks beyond that."

"Does that mean the frame can definitely come off in another three months then? I was hoping for sooner. You did say originally four to six months," Steve asked hopefully.

"You do like to jump the gun, don't you? Let's just say the frame will have to stay in place for the next six weeks and then we'll assess again. There's no point in thinking too far ahead, but I think we're looking at six months in total with the frame. Now, don't look at me like that. It's only been three months up to now. Some fractures heal quicker than others. Don't forget, yours was a nasty compound fracture with some splintering of the bone, and these things can't be rushed, as I've stressed so many times before. You have a very active job and that leg has to be strong. Your pin site hygiene is very good and I'm very happy with your progress. You'll have to be satisfied with that for now."

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just too impatient. As long as you're happy then I'm happy."

"Did I hear right that you're working at the police academy as a teacher at the moment? That's quite a change of direction for you isn't it?"

"I am working part-time at the academy but not really as a teacher... more of a personal tutor. They were looking for someone to head a pilot study for a new development plan that they had and yours truly was the man of choice. I still haven't decided if I was the lucky candidate or not but, I have to say, it's very different from what I'm used to and it's a challenge. Contrary to my initial thoughts, I'm actually enjoying it."

"Well, I hope you continue to do so. Being laid up for so long, I think a new challenge was what you needed."

"Yes, that's very true. Right, I guess I'll go and see Rick now. Bye, Dr Truman and thank you." He left the room and made his way to the PT room. As he opened the main doors he saw Rick with a patient. He was walking him up and down the parallel walking bars. There was no sign of Tom, so he took a seat just inside the doors and waited till Rick saw him. After about five minutes, he saw Rick dismissing the patient and, as Rick accompanied the man to the doors, he looked up and saw Steve.

"Well, look who's here! Dr Truman said he'd be sending you down to see me. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be right with you."

"That's okay. There's no rush."

Rick made another appointment for his patient then turned to Steve. "How are you doing, Steve? I must say you're looking good."

"I'm doing fine. Dr Truman wanted me to see you for further advice as he says I can now partial weight bear, so it seems I'm making steady progress even if it is slow."

"Well I have a free half-hour slot so I'll just have a look at you and show you what I want you to do." By the time Steve walked out of the PT room and towards the doors of the hospital, he had a new series of exercises to do twice a day in addition to the others. It had been good to catch up with Rick again. As arranged, he rang Jeannie at home to tell her he was ready to be picked up and within five minutes she was outside the hospital.

"Well, how did it go?"

"Great. I've now progressed from walking on one foot and two crutches to one and a half feet and two crutches. I suppose it's progress. I'm starving. Come on. I'll treat you to lunch at Mama's to celebrate, plus it'll be a send-off meal for you too."

Jeannie said her goodbyes to Steve that evening, and the next day, just after breakfast, Mike took her to get the bus for her return to Tempe. She was nicely relaxed after her holiday and ready for the new term ahead.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

As Steve settled in again at the academy for the new semester, he decided to keep the same formula he had started with of letting the cadets decide the content of their sessions. The basic cadets seemed to be more concerned with how they would handle themselves from a more emotional point of view such as in the morgue, and how they would cope with the awful sights they would see when they came to deal with road traffic accidents, suicides, beatings, murders and the like. Basically, the gory side of being a cop. Steve handled these sessions as best he could, pushing the point that if they couldn't stand the sight of even a little bit of blood, then maybe they were heading for the wrong profession. They all took it in good part and he was able to put most of it down to nervous anticipation on behalf of the very raw recruits and, by keeping the topic light, he was able to settle their nerves as much as possible. In addition to the questions they raised, he wanted to stress upon them the more mundane, but vitally important, side of policing like writing reports, accurate record keeping and preservation of crime scenes. He took the opportunity to stress upon them, at this very early stage of their careers, that a rookie cop blundering into the crime scene of a murder and destroying evidence was his worst nightmare.

He was kept busy in his room after the sessions, as several of the basic cadets would come just for a chat to boost their confidence, mainly wanting reassurance and confirmation for themselves that they had chosen the right career path. It was mostly all first semester jitters, and Steve felt the best action for him was to simply let them talk with a little gentle input from him so that, by the time they left his room, they'd actually searched inside themselves and answered their own questions. It was at these times that Steve realised what an important job Lenny Murchison did. Whilst he would never put himself on a par with the psychiatrist and counsellor, he did feel that a lot of what he'd learnt from Lenny over the years had rubbed off on him, and he was able to use the knowledge he'd gained from Lenny in his present position at the academy. It was a further demonstration to him that, although he'd gone through some pretty bad experiences in the past that had required thought-provoking counselling, he'd learnt something from them all, and no experience, however bad, was ever wasted. He smiled as he thought Mike's mother would be proud of him.

With the intermediate group, he had started off their first session by getting them to understand the importance of maintaining good communication within the local communities. Some areas of the city were harder to police than others and, in order to investigate crime in some of these difficult areas, it was necessary to keep the local residents on side, and to show them respect and that they mattered just as much as the residents up on Nob Hill or Pacific Heights. Coping with the inevitable class divide and prejudice on the streets was always a problem and difficult to handle.

Steve's formula for the classes worked well, in its way, across all the three classes of cadets, but he felt he needed to do something more with the advanced cadets. He had an idea, but he needed to run it past both Mike and Lieutenant Sage first.

As he finished work one Tuesday afternoon early in the semester, he invited Mike over later for supper. When he got home he opened his kitchen cupboard and took out a pack of spaghetti and a tin of bolognese sauce. It was a simple meal but one that he knew Mike enjoyed, and it wouldn't take too long to cook when Mike arrived. He set the table and was all ready and waiting for Mike's arrival but, when he eventually turned up, he was a lot later than had been anticipated. He threw his raincoat and his jacket over the back of a chair, tossed his hat on top and followed Steve to the kitchen, all the while full of apologies for keeping Steve waiting.

"It's okay, Mike. I didn't know how long you'd be, so I just thought I'd cook something quick and simple." Mike leant on the kitchen door jamb as Steve cooked. "This smells really appetising Steve. Just what I need after the day I've had. I had to spend the last hour and a half trying to explain to Roy why some vital evidence bags had gone missing from that shooting yesterday, only to find that Paul had put them under the seat of his car and then gone home, forgetting to deliver them to the lab. I tell you, the day you come back in full harness can't come soon enough for me."

"I thought you were getting on much better with him. He seems much more relaxed whenever I speak to him."

"Oh, he's more relaxed alright. He's so laid back now he's almost horizontal! I think I preferred him when he was all keyed up. At least he was on his toes then. He's just never on the ball these days. I get the feeling he just goes through the motions of the job rather than living it. Oh, don't start me on him or I shan't know when to stop. Let's eat. I'm so hungry I could eat a crow with all its feathers on." Steve laughed as he filled the dishes with the spaghetti and then spooned the sauce over the top. Mike picked up the two dishes and placed them on the table and then sat down. He reached for the small bowl in the centre of the table.

"Mmmmm… smells good! And grated parmesan too! I'm impressed, Buddy Boy," he said cheekily.

"I aim to please, Mike. Just enjoy it."

"You said you had something you wanted to talk over. Do you want to talk while we eat?"

"Okay. I wanted to run an idea past you and see what you think. The advanced group of cadets are still coming up with a few ideas for discussion sessions, but not as many as before as they're growing more confident day by day, so I want them to get their teeth into something more. I was wondering about giving them some old case histories to study. I'd pull a few at random from our files and look them over before I passed them to the cadets. I'd probably just choose one case every session, and I'd have to get some of the relevant documents photocopied, but the photos of the crime scenes would be pinned up on a board for them to look at, along with any other photo or other picture or written evidence, then we'd discuss the case together and I'd talk them through how we reached the conclusion to arrest and prosecute. Do you think it would work? I'd need your permission to access the files and take them off the premises, and I guess I'd need Rudy's too."

"Hmm! It sounds okay in theory. You'd have to be very careful not to lose or accidentally damage or destroy any documents in the process, but I don't see why it wouldn't be allowed. Have you run it past any of the officers at the academy yet?"

"Not yet, I thought I'd sound you out first. I thought I'd just choose cases that you and I had worked on, and that way I'd know the ins and outs of the cases in detail."

"Good idea. That's probably best. Let me sleep on it and I'll let you know tomorrow for definite, but I can't see a problem from my point of view. I'll speak to Rudy before you do anything, and I think I'd better run it past Roy just to keep him in the loop too. If they agree then you can sound Jack Sage out, and maybe Captain Lyle as well. We may also need the permission of the DA too, but we'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

After they'd eaten and washed up they chatted together and then Steve raised another issue that some of the cadets had put to him. They'd all heard of the renowned Mike Stone of course, and seemed fascinated by Steve's close partnership with him. The subject had come up when he and the advanced cadets had been discussing interview techniques and, in particular, they'd brought up the 'good cop/bad cop' interview technique and wanted to see how it worked in practice. Steve had tried to explain that it was something that came with experience and needed close co-operation between partners, and he'd run them through a couple of make believe scenarios, but he was wondering if Mike would be up for something more.

"How would you feel about coming to the academy on your next Monday or Friday afternoon off to meet the cadets and help me demonstrate the 'good cop/bad cop' interview technique? It's not something that I can do by myself and, whilst I know they're taught interview techniques in their normal classes, this is something that they're not taught. It's just something that some partners, like you and I, seem to evolve into. What do you think?"

"Oh, I don't know, Steve. This academy stuff is suiting you in your present circumstances, but I'm not sure if it's something that I'd like to get involved in. Can't you ask Jack Sage to help you?"

"It wouldn't work Mike. You know it's a partnership thing. You and I know each other so well and how we each work with a suspect. I don't think I could achieve it with Bill or Lee, let alone with Jack. No, it would have to be you and me for it to work. I'd give one or two of the cadets a made-up scenario to study that I'd written out where they're a suspect in a homicide case. I'd just give them the bare outlines and then it would be up to them to flesh their character out. I'd then ask them to ad-lib it and act it out with you and me as the investigating officers. It would kill two birds with one stone, if you'll pardon the pun, as they've expressed a great desire to meet you as well as to see that particular interview technique demonstrated. Anyway, have a think about it and let me know."

"You'd have to run this past Captain Lyle or Jack Sage too, you know. They may not be too keen on me coming in as an outsider and messing with their training."

"I already have, and Jack said he sees no problem with it. In fact, he'd be happy to have you... and may even sit in on the class himself that day."

"Oh, he might... eh? Does he think he might learn something too? You really do like putting me on the spot, don't you?" Mike was sitting looking across at Steve and thinking hard. "Okay, Buddy Boy, you're on. You dream up a couple of plausible scenarios, run them by me, and then you can choose a cadet to act it out, and you and I can go to town on him... or her. I've got a long weekend at the end of next week so, if you can arrange it by then, we'll do it on the Friday afternoon. Will that suit you?"

"That'd be great, Mike. I really appreciate it. Thanks."

"You're really getting into this academy lark, aren't you? I know I joke about you being a teacher, but I can see that you're really taking all this stuff very seriously. You weren't so keen at the beginning, but now I think I'm going to have trouble tearing you away from it all when you're judged fit enough to return to normal duties."

"Oh, I don't know, Mike. I wouldn't swap it for my normal duties, but I can't have them at present, so this is a really good stop-gap till I'm up and running again... literally," he smiled ruefully. "I'm prepared to admit that I'm enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. I really wasn't sure when I started how much use I was going to be, but it seems to be stirring some inner depths in me that I didn't even know were there. I couldn't sit idle for months so this, combined with the office work on the other days, is keeping me busy and making me feel useful in the process. It's also really good experience to have under my belt if anything ever took me off the streets for good," he said frowning heavily.

"Oh, now come on! It's probably best not to go thinking that way, Steve. No sense worrying about what might never happen and, please God, it won't ever happen." Mike was fearful to hear Steve speak this way.

"I agree, Mike, but it doesn't hurt to be realistic and prepared... to a certain degree."

"Are you saying you might like to take up teaching, Steve, I mean if you had to leave active service?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm simply saying it's all good experience to stand me in good stead for any future circumstance that, I hope, may never happen. Now, can we change the subject please. This conversation is getting far too deep and maudlin for my liking." They chatted together for the next hour or so about other things until Mike left to go home, but Steve was left thinking hard and long about what Mike had said. A cop's life was often precarious and no-one knew what the future might bring.

On the Wednesday afternoon, Steve was called to Rudy's office. Mike had already asked for a meeting with Rudy and Roy and they had discussed both of Steve's proposals, and they now wanted to discuss matters directly with him. The idea of Mike attending the academy to help Steve out was given the go ahead. The other idea of the cadets studying case files with Steve was a little trickier for them to decide. In theory it sounded fine, but Rudy wanted the advice of the DA's office and made a phone call to Gerry O'Brien. Thankfully, he didn't see any problem with it at all. They were all closed cases, so discussing them in an academy class wasn't a problem. Rudy also made a phone call to Captain Lyle and he gave his approval too. All systems were go.

Over the next few days, Steve pulled several case files to take home and study, and he also worked out four scenarios for the following week when it had been arranged for Mike to visit the academy. Steve had also asked permission for their 'good cop/bad cop' role-play to be available to the intermediate cadets in the earlier class that afternoon as well, so he gave the scenarios to two of the chosen cadets in each class for them to learn, and work out how they were going to act it out. He told them to stick to the underlying basic outline he'd given them but not to hold back. They should argue it out and try any ploy to wriggle out of the questioning with him and Mike for as long as they could just like a real suspect would do. He also encouraged the other cadets to help them work out their strategy but he, personally, didn't want any part of their planning. He wanted to be as ignorant of it as Mike would be when the time came to role-play the interviews to keep them as authentic as possible. Mike was also given his part to play as Steve gave him the outlines of the 'crimes' that were supposed to have taken place so he'd be clued up when the time came too.

When the day dawned, it was hard to know who was the most nervous... the cadets taking the parts or Mike. The classroom was set up so the interview would take place across Steve's desk. There was a chair either side of the desk. Mike didn't meet any of the role-play cadets beforehand as he and Steve thought it would have a more dramatic effect if the cadets in question were still in awe of Mike. Mike's sudden appearance into the room would, hopefully, strike fear into the cadet playing the part of the suspect, again just as it would in real life. This also meant the second cadet each time wouldn't get to see the first cadet being interviewed, so Jack brought in a cine-camera and sat at the back to film what went on. Steve would then later play it back another day in class, so the other cadet could see what went on in the first scenario and there could be an open discussion for all the cadets on both cases.

The first interview began with their initial meeting with the 'suspect' and Mike took the lead as Steve moved across to lean nonchalantly back on a window ledge. Mike began to question the 'suspect' Pete, played by a cadet called Dave. Dave did his best for his character to hold out against Mike's questioning for as long as possible and proved himself really good at trying to talk himself out of a hole, before finally caving in. Mike began gently at first, with an occasional question popped in by Steve, but then Mike began to toughen up and ramp up the questioning quite quickly, pushing the 'suspect' for answers and beginning to tie him up in knots. This went on for a little while and the 'suspect' was beginning to get very shaky and unsure of the story that he'd worked out. Suddenly, Steve, who had been sitting almost silent on the sidelines throughout the interview, spoke out and stepped forward.

"Hey, hey, back off a bit, will ya! You're not giving Pete here a chance to answer firing questions at him like that. Can't you see he's nervous and you're making him even more nervous with your poking and prodding for answers? That's so, isn't it, Pete?"

"It's true! He's pushing at me so much I don't know what I'm saying any more." The cadet was visibly trembling, especially when the 'Stone glare' was played to full effect.

"Sonny, I just want you to tell me the truth about what happened. You're not doing yourself any favours holding out like this." Mike came across very short-tempered.

"And badgering isn't helping either," cajoled Steve. He could see Mike was really enjoying himself. As these were cadets, Mike felt able to go over the top a little with the play-acting, but still strictly kept it within the bounds of a legal interview.

"Well, he knows more than he's letting on, don't you Pete?" Mike pushed his face close up to Pete's, wagged his finger at him and glared at him. "You're lying, Pete. You know it and I know it. You're covering up for your friend and I mean to find out why. One of you killed Moffatt. Now which one of you was it?" As Mike's voice rose in anger he turned away from the 'suspect', supposedly in exasperation and to gather his thoughts, and Steve immediately stepped in and took over, this time in a far gentler voice but still probing for answers. Mike moved to the window-ledge and let Steve take over the gentler probing. Steve's softer voice and questioning was winning Pete over in a way that Mike hadn't. As Mike turned back to have another determined shot at Pete, Steve put his hand out and pushed him back telling him to calm down and that Pete would talk if Mike just backed off. They were demonstrating the technique so well the cadets were enthralled and almost felt it was for real.

"You'll have to excuse my partner, Pete. The death of this elderly man has hit him hard, but you and I both know that you're involved. I can see it in your eyes and I can tell, despite the hard outer casing you're showing us, that you're getting upset and regretting what happened. I don't think you meant to kill Harold Moffatt, did you? I'm prepared to accept it may have been an accident? Did you get riled up and lash out and hit him, or was it the other kid you were with? You may as well tell us, Pete, because the truth will come out eventually, and it'll go better for you in court if you speak up now and tell us who hit Moffatt."

All the while Steve had spoken he'd hardly raised his voice at all. The tactic worked. By this time the cadet was actually shaking with fear and stumbling over his words. The interview seemed so realistic and Mike had tied him up so well, countering everything he said in an effort to put him in the wrong. He knew he couldn't keep up the pretence as a 'suspect' much longer and, under Steve's softer approach, he caved in. "It wasn't me. It was Barny. I'm not going down for murder for him. He was the one who hit him. He didn't mean to hurt him, but he wanted to know where the old man's money was stashed, and the old goat wouldn't tell us. How were we to know he had a weak heart? We didn't mean for him to die. If I could take it all back I would."

Mike and Steve both eased back and then looked at the class. To give Dave his due, he really had played the part of the 'suspect' very well, and many of his reactions could almost be perceived as real. Even Mike was impressed with his acting ability.

The class applauded, and Dave sat back trying to regain his composure. "You really had me going there. I was almost ready to admit to anything to get Lieutenant Stone off my back. Gosh, that was weird. I'd like to say it was fun, but there was no fun in it."

"The intention isn't to get you to admit to anything, Dave, but to get you, as a suspect, to admit to your guilt, if you are the guilty party, or to at least admit to your involvement in the crime. If a suspect is not guilty we aim to ferret that out too. We don't just want to send anyone to prison, just the guilty ones," Mike explained. "I must say I'm very impressed by your acting skills. You handled yourself very well."

They chatted over the interview techniques used for a while and then the other cadet, who was to play the 'suspect' in the second scenario was brought in. This time a female cadet had been chosen and Steve played the part of the 'bad cop' and Mike the 'good'. She played the part well with her idea for the scenario, but, although she tried to hold out, she cracked a lot quicker than Dave had done. Again, the techniques Mike and Steve used were discussed and Mike thoroughly enjoyed his meeting with the cadets. The ease of Mike and Steve's partnership was evident to all of them, and Steve felt really good to be working in harness with Mike again, even if it was only in role-play. By the end of the class the intermediate cadets all thanked Mike for coming and deemed it to have been extremely helpful to have him there.

When the advanced cadets filed into the classroom, much the same play acting took place with the cadets chosen. In the second scenario Mike and Steve, along with the cadets, played out the second case in a more complicated manner. Mike and Steve showed how they picked out one particular 'suspect' first, and brought him into the room and questioned him separately, again one with a softer approach than the other, then that 'suspect' left the room and they swapped over. Mike and Steve also swapped techniques, and eventually turned the two 'suspects' against each other. Again, the whole session was deemed to be very successful. It had been a great afternoon and Mike was applauded and thanked for attending and, after everyone had filed out, Mike accompanied Steve and Jack Sage back to Steve's office where they sat drinking coffee and chewing over what had just taken place.

Jack was so pleased that everything had gone well. "I have to thank you, Mike, for giving up your time this afternoon. Naturally the cadets have all heard a lot about you, and I know they were thrilled to meet you in person."

"Oh, I think most of the thanks for this afternoon should go to the cadets. They really held their own well. They're a great bunch. The fact that I didn't already know any of them, I think helped me more than Steve. I really didn't know what to expect of them nor they of me. It was a good afternoon and I'm glad I came," Mike said as he looked over at Steve.

"Well, I must say the performance you two put on was first rate and I have to hand it to you two, you really are good. I think we trained you well, Steve, but I can see you've learnt a lot more from Mike than ever you learnt from us here. We can only lay the groundwork here at the academy, but you've gone on to get a better education with Mike than ever we gave you here," said Jack as a smile passed between him and Mike. "You have an excellent partnership."

Mike looked at Steve and couldn't hide the pride in his voice. "You're right, Jack, we do have an excellent partnership, and I thank God every day for giving me such a fine young man as my partner and my very close friend. I'd heard he was doing sterling work here and this afternoon gave me the opportunity to see what he gets up to when he's not working with me. I have to say I've really missed having him alongside me, but I can see his input here is reaping rewards," he said proudly, looking across at Steve who was squirming under the praise being heaped on him.

"I wish you pair would cut it out. You're embarrassing me." Steve blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Steve, I feel the same as Mike and I like to give credit where credit's due," Jack answered Steve then turned back to Mike. "He's doing really well, Mike. He and the cadets have allowed me to sit in on a couple of their more recent classes, just quietly at the back with no interference from me you understand, and I can assure you I'm more than happy with him. The feedback from the cadets is all good too. I think he's also had quite a few coming for personal advice, haven't you, Steve."

"Just a few… well quite a few if I'm honest. I hope I've been of help but that really has taken me out of my comfort zone. I just hope I haven't given anyone bum advice," he said thoughtfully. "That's been my biggest fear."

"I don't think so, Steve. All feedback has been positive even from those who've left us." He turned to Mike to explain further. "We've actually lost two or three cadets who weren't suited to the job, and I'm not sure if they would've admitted it if it hadn't been for speaking confidentially to Steve. He was instrumental in helping them to work out their feelings and to decide exactly what they did want. Then there have been others with lesser problems that I understand he's also counselled successfully so, from the point of view of the pilot scheme working, I would say it's working very well under Steve's management and guidance."

They chatted for a while longer about the idea of the case files being studied by the cadets and Jack was in full agreement and support. "I think it's a brilliant idea and not one that I would have come up with for Steve to undertake with the cadets, but I'm hoping this idea will work as well as the others that Steve has introduced. He really does have a knack for relating to the cadets," Jack said quite proudly.

As Mike finally stood up to leave, he shook hands with Jack who thanked him profusely for allowing Steve to work at the academy. Jack left shortly after Mike and Steve stayed on for a few more hours ready to counsel any cadet that asked for help. He also had some work to do with Monica preparing the picture boards and photocopying the two case files that he'd chosen to study with the advanced cadets over the next two weeks.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Steve was on his way home from Bryant Street one Tuesday afternoon a month later. Things were going well for him at the academy and, interspersed with his work at Bryant Street, he was being kept very busy. He'd stopped off at the records room and was looking through one of the shelves containing files for another couple of cases for the advanced cadets to study. He'd already pulled three that looked likely then searched for a fourth. He pulled one that was sticking out a little further than the others. He wanted to check the top right-hand corner for the names of the investigating officers. As he eased it out, he failed to notice a photograph fall out of the file onto the floor. He checked the names in the corner. Sergeant Joseph Zachary and Sergeant Maxwell Dexter. No good. Steve only wanted cases he and Mike had worked on. He went to push the file back in when his eye caught something by his feet. He bent carefully on his crutches to pick the photograph up. He looked at the back to check which file it belonged to, and was about to put it back in the file he'd just pulled, when something about the photo caught his eye. It was a scenes of crime photograph of a bedroom with the body of a female lying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her head was to the side of a bedside table. On the table was a book and something about it drew Steve's eye to the cover. It wasn't sharp on the photograph, but it looked like it might be vaguely familiar. He stood looking at the photo for another minute, then retrieved the rest of the file and carried it across to the table at the end of the room and sat down.

The file was headed "State v. Martin Nixon". The dates on it were the date the crime took place, August 12th 1970 and the date of the court judgement and sentencing, November 2nd 1970 . Steve flipped it open and began to peruse the papers inside. He looked in the envelope that was inside the file that contained more photographs of the crime scene. Although he studied each one in turn, annoyingly he couldn't find another that showed the items on the bedside table clearly. He returned the photo to the envelope and began to look through the rest of the file. It told him that Martin Nixon had been indicted for the murder of his wife, Cherry Nixon. Nixon had continually protested his innocence, but he'd been found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment to serve a minimum term of twenty-five years before he could apply for parole. He was sent to serve his time in San Quentin.

Steve took the photo out again and studied it as closely as the naked eye could see. Something about the book cover was familiar. He gathered all the file notes together, tucked them awkwardly under his arm along with the other three files he'd already chosen, and took them over to Sergeant Powell who was in charge of the records room.

"Harry, can I sign these four files out please," he asked the chubby man in front of him as he laid the files on the desk. Harry had been injured in the line of duty several years ago and, instead of taking his invalid retirement pension, he'd elected to stay on in the department in an administrative role.

"Sure thing, Steve. You found anything that takes your fancy this time?"

"Maybe, Harry. I'm taking these three, but I also want to have a look at this one," he said indicating the thicker file.

"State versus Nixon 1970? That was before your time, wasn't it?"

"I was in the department then but not in homicide. Do you know anything about it, Harry?" Steve knew Harry was good at his job and was a veritable mine of information.

"Let me think. Martin Nixon... murder..." He rubbed his chin. "Yeah, it rings a bell. Wasn't that the guy who claimed he was innocent? Well, don't they all?" He gave a deep belly laugh. "But there was something about this guy that made me wonder at the time. He was pretty distraught at the death of his wife and I kind of got the feeling that it was genuine. He was so angry when the jury found him guilty. Most of them, when they're found guilty, just accept their fate. They did the crime, they failed to get away with it, so they do the time. No point arguing it any further. But this guy was adamant he didn't do it. I seem to remember he wanted to lodge an appeal but couldn't afford it. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Didn't come across as a hard-nose, if you know what I mean." He filled in the necessary forms for Steve to sign, and then Steve placed the files in the canvas bag across his shoulder. "You interested in that one then?"

"Yeah, I just want to take a look at it. Thanks Harry," he smiled at the other officer as he made his way out of the records room. Instead of going home, he made his way down to the first floor and along to the forensics laboratory. As he entered he caught sight of the man he wanted.

"Charlie, my man! How are you?" he called across to the tall, white-coated Afro-American man that he got along with so well. Charlie turned and made his way over to Steve with a beaming smile.

"Hey, Steve. How's things? You got any more evidence bags for me to keep me busy?" he chuckled.

"Not exactly, Charlie. I wanted to know if you could blow up a photograph for me, so I can see if I can get a better look at it."

"Sure. Come on, we'll go through here." He took Steve through a set of double doors into another part of the forensics department and made his way over to an area where a man was putting papers under a projector and showing them on a screen above. "Nate, can you help us please? Steve here wants a photograph enlarged."

The young bespectacled man at the table turned and looked up at both men who had approached him. "Hi, Steve. Good to see you. Are you doing okay?" he asked as he indicated Steve's crutches.

"Oh, not so bad... could be worse, thanks. Could you give me a better look at this photo please?" He took his canvas bag off his shoulder and took the file from inside and took the envelope of photographs out of it, searched for the one he wanted and handed it to the younger man. "It's this one please. There's a book on the bedside table. Can you concentrate on that please?"

Nate slipped the photo under the projector and it appeared on the screen above. It was grainy and not easy to discern. Nate twiddled a couple of knobs and the photo became somewhat clearer and then he zoomed in on the book.

"That's the best I can do, Steve. I can just about make out the words... long... something... something... then it looks like... night or light. Does that help?"

"It says 'Long Day's Journey Into Night'. The author is Eugene O'Neill." Steve was staring at the photo projected on the wall. He suddenly had a tingling all down his back.

"That's right. That's exactly what it says. Were you already expecting that?"

"Yes, I think I was. Thanks a lot, Nate. That's a great help. Can you run me off a copy of that enlarged shot please?"

"Sure, just give me a minute."

Whilst Steve waited he chatted with Charlie and then Nate reappeared with the photo.

"There you are, Steve."

"Thanks a lot, Nate. I owe you one, and you, Charlie." Steve placed both the photos in his canvas bag and, with a last grin at both men, made his way out of the lab. He stopped off in the lobby to call a cab and made his way home.

Three hours, two cups of coffee and a ham sandwich later, Steve had finished reading the papers of the Nixon case which were spread out on his coffee table in front of him. The similarities with the Sonia Logan case, for which George Hennessey had been indicted, were uncanny. He knew he needed to pull the evidence bag from the evidence store and look at the book that was on the bedside table of this victim, Cherry Nixon, if it was even there, but he needed to speak to Mike first. He looked at the clock but decided it was too late to phone him tonight. It would be better to sleep on it and speak to Mike in the morning. He performed his nightly ritual and climbed into bed, but sleep eluded him for several hours. As he lay in the dark Steve thought back to the recent meetings he and Mike had had with Gerry O'Brien in preparation for the trial of George Hennessey. They'd gone over and over their statements, particularly Steve's, until he was heartily sick of it all, but eventually Gerry was satisfied that Steve was rock-solid. As the grey light of dawn was creeping into his room, he fell into an uneasy sleep, and when his alarm went off the next morning he awoke feeling sluggish and not refreshed at all. Nevertheless, he now had something he thought might link the murders of Sonia Logan and Cherry Nixon and he was eager to crack on.

Mike was already in when Steve arrived earlier than usual. As he was alone, Steve made a beeline straight for his office. "Mike, have you got a few minutes please? I need to run something past you," he asked, and Mike looked up at him then looked at his watch.

"Hey, you're eager this morning, aren't you? We don't usually see you this early. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He indicated the seat opposite his desk.

"I've come across another case that may have a significant bearing on the Hennessey case, but this is a closed case, so I think I'll need your permission to take another look at it officially." While Steve was talking he was removing the file from his canvas bag and laying it on the desk in front of Mike. Mike slipped his glasses on.

"The Hennessey case...eh? Well, I'm all ears, Buddy Boy. What have you found?"

Steve began to explain his findings from the evening before. "Cherry Nixon was stabbed to death allegedly by her husband. He worked the regular ten hour night shift from 10.00 pm till 8.00 am at Polanski's lighting factory on Valencia Street in the Mission District. She worked the day shifts in Samson's diner in Ghirardelli Square. Their marriage was kind of rocky, shortage of money, both working long hours, not connecting regularly... you know how it goes. However, it seems she had more personal money to spend than their combined earnings would account for, and the husband suspected her of… shall we say... undertaking paid extra night time activities while he was off working nights at Polanski's." He grinned broadly at Mike.

Mike looked up at Steve over the top of his glasses. "You need to learn to call a spade a spade instead of wrapping it up in fancy terms! You mean he thought she was working as a hooker? If you mean a hooker, say a hooker, Steve."

Steve grinned broadly. "Well, I don't think he thought of her as a hooker, but he was suspicious that she was earning extra money on the side. She certainly wasn't earning that much from extra shifts at the diner. I don't think she touted on the streets... nothing that obvious. She was lonely at nights, so she'd occasionally pick a guy up in a bar and take him back for... well..." He caught a raised eyebrow from Mike and grinned. "Anyway, the husband had a thirty minute meal break each night, so he decided to come home on the night of August 12th to see if he could prove his suspicions and catch her out. He parked his car in the street and could see a light on in their bedroom. There's a statement from a neighbour who confirmed she saw his car parked there when he should normally have been at work. He made his way up to their apartment and used his key to quietly let himself in. He heard noises coming from the bedroom that told him she was entertaining alright, but Nixon claims he was so shocked and upset he didn't want to confront her there and then with another man there, so he crept quietly back to his car and kept watch. Less than ten minutes later a man he describes as grey haired, about 180lbs, above average height and wearing a check jacket, left the apartment and headed off past his car, up the street and around the corner. Sound like anyone we know? Hennessey maybe? Anyway, Nixon went back up to his apartment to confront his wife. It was abnormally quiet in there. He made his way across to the bedroom to find his wife on the floor at the side of the bed. She'd been stabbed several times. He ran to the phone in the living room and called for an ambulance and police, and then returned to the bedroom and cradled his wife's lifeless body in his arms. When police came there was no sign of any other assailant. The coroner could find no signs of sexual activity with any other man that night to corroborate Nixon's story that another man had been there, but she had some bruising to her wrists and face consistent with having been knocked about a bit. The police investigations didn't turn up any other leads. It all pointed to it being an open and shut case... none other than Martin Nixon himself who had murdered her in a fit of jealous rage... a crime of passion. He continually protested his innocence, but a jury found him guilty."

"Well, I grant you it does sound rather like the murder of Sonia Logan but suspicion alone isn't enough to re-open a case. What makes you think the Logan case ties in with the Nixon case from... what... more than four years ago?"

"This scenes of crime photo was in the file." Steve placed the photo in front of Mike alongside the enlargement. "I had it blown up by the lab last night. Look at the book, Mike. I know it's not terribly clear, but you can just about make out the title and also the picture on the book cover. It's 'Long Day's Journey into Night' by Eugene O'Neill, just like the one on Sonia Logan's bedside table. It's even the same graphics on the front so it's probably the same edition, and there have been several editions of this book. You saw the book we took from Logan's flat. It certainly didn't look like the sort of bedtime reading for that type of woman, and it doesn't seem to fit the character of Cherry Nixon either. I want to go to the evidence store and pull the evidence bag from the Nixon murder if it's there. It's less than five years ago so it should still be there. If not, I'll go to the historical vaults. I want to see if the book is in there and, if it is, I want to see if there are any highlighted words in the book."

"You mean 'vengeance... is... mine'. Wasn't that what was highlighted in the book in the Hennessey case?" Mike asked Steve.

"Exactly. That's what I expect to find. There was also a button found on the floor at the side of the bed a few feet away from the body. It was a leather button of the sort found on a fairly expensive man's jacket, but it didn't match any item of clothing in Nixon's closet. Officers discounted it saying it could have come from any of her gentleman callers on any previous night. It's a long shot, but we need to go to Hennessey's house and check his closet for a check coat with buttons that match with the one found by the bed. I know it's nearly five years ago and I don't think I have jackets that date back that far, but I'd lay odds on it that an older man would. Hell, I'd lay odds that you have some."

"Cheeky devil! I'll let that pass, but only because you could be right." Mike smiled up at Steve. "What about the book on the bedside table? Is there any mention of it? What did the investigating officers make of that?" Mike asked.

"Her husband maintained he'd never seen it before, but it looks like it was agreed that, although it was rather unusual bedtime reading, it was not impossible that she could have been reading it. It's listed on the original evidence list, but I can't find any reference to it in the court transcript, so I doubt it was even brought up in court. I really don't understand why, but it probably wasn't even opened and looked at by the lab. Sonia Logan was killed with a knife and so was Cherry Nixon. A single finger print was found on the handle of the knife that killed Nixon's wife that matched Martin Nixon's print. His explanation for that was that his wife was less than house-proud and he used to do the washing and drying up. He lived in the apartment, so his defence said it wasn't inconceivable that his print would be on the knife but, clearly, the jury didn't buy it. I think this guy got a bum deal in court from his defence attorney. What do you think, Mike? Do you think Hennessey could've murdered Cherry Nixon and got away with it?"

"Well, you've certainly turned up some interesting new thoughts, Steve. If Hennessey did kill this woman as well as Sonia Logan, it also raises the question... are these the only murders or how many other women could he have killed in the intervening four years?" Mike was tapping his hands on the desk. "Why wasn't I involved in this at the time? August 1970. Oh, of course, I remember. I was on compassionate leave with Helen around that time. My thoughts would've been only for her and Jeannie. I'm not sure who was covering in my absence but it wouldn't have been Roy back then." A shadow momentarily passed over his face and then he brightened. "Right, we do this very carefully and by the book. No slip-ups. An innocent man could be in prison for a crime he didn't commit. You go and pull the evidence bag and hopefully the book will be in it. In front of a witness sign it out in the sealed bag, then take the book to the lab for finger-printing and detailed forensic examination and get them to check the book for highlighted words. Then I want you to go with Paul to Hennessey's house and check his closet for that check jacket."

"Will it be okay for me to go, Mike? I'm not supposed to be on active duty off the premises."

"Oh, hell, I forgot about that. Okay, I'll go with Paul. I don't want to trust him on his own with this. You contact San Quentin and get a visiting order for me, Paul and you to go and see Martin Nixon this afternoon. I want to hear what he's got to say for himself. I'll take Paul with me, but you can come along ostensibly as an interested third party. You're still a serving police officer, you're just not on active duty, so I don't see a problem. While I'm out with Paul, could you go and see Roy and put him in the picture, and also put Gerry O'Brien in the picture too. Oh, and check with him the legalities of you working on the case. I don't want to give the Hennessey defence any loophole to wriggle out of if the two cases are related. I think you're onto something here and, if Hennessey is involved, I want to see him go down big time."

"You and me both, Mike."

Early that afternoon Mike and Steve, along with Paul Kingdom, were on their way to San Quentin. Gerry had foreseen no problem in Steve working on the case. Mike had made enquiries of the two original investigating officers, but Sergeant Zachary had left the SFPD three years ago and gone to live in Portland, Oregon, and Sergeant Dexter had died of pneumonia eighteen months ago. Steve had retrieved the book and it was now in the hands of the forensics lab, along with a check jacket Mike and Paul had found in Hennessey's closet. It had buttons that appeared to match the button found at the scene of the murder of Cherry Nixon. The bottom button on the jacket had been replaced at some time with what appeared to be a very similar, but not identical, button. It was actually so similar it was hard to tell the difference. The thread used to sew the button on wasn't identical to that used on the other buttons either, but they needed definite confirmation from the lab of that fact.

The tan LTD with Mike at the wheel approached the gates of San Quentin. All three men got out and made their way into the guard house. Mike confirmed their names and they each signed in.

"Weapons, ammo and cuffs, gentlemen please," asked the guard and Paul and Mike removed each item and handed them over to the guard to be locked away. Steve explained he wasn't on active duty at the moment and lifted his jacket to show he wasn't carrying any of the requested items, then he signed the book after Mike and Paul, and placed the pen back onto the book. They then returned to their car with a guard appointed to show them in to the main prison, and within ten minutes they were being shown into an interview room. Although Paul was officially Mike's partner, he was designated to take a back seat to allow Steve to lead the interview alongside Mike.

Martin Nixon was led into the interview room by a guard who then stood quietly by the door with his back to the wall. Mike began the introductions.

"Martin Nixon? I'm Lieutenant Stone and this is Inspector Keller and Sergeant Kingdom. We're with SFPD Homicide Squad."

"Homicide? What's this about, Lieutenant? I'm locked away in this dump so I'm not in any position to have committed any murder that you can fit me up for... again! I've been there before and I'm in no hurry to go there again so get on with it and say what you've got to say." Nixon spoke belligerently and sat back sulkily in his chair with his hands in his lap.

"We're not here to fit you up for anything, Mr Nixon," explained Mike. "We just want to ask you a few questions. Inspector Keller and I have been investigating another murder that took place a few months ago, and he's had reason to examine the file on your wife's murder recently in connection with some other work he is currently doing. He has some questions that he'd like to ask you to help us with."

"Oh, so you want my help do you? Why should I answer anything he asks me?" He nodded across at Steve. "I'm serving life here with no hope of parole before I've done twenty-five years. I was innocent then and I'm innocent now, but nobody saw fit to believe me. The lawyer appointed to defend me was crap and I ended up here where I've been for the last four and a half years. So, Lieutenant Stone, tell me how you think I can help you and, more importantly, why you think I should help you? What's in it for me, because if there ain't anything in it for me you can shove your questions where the sun don't shine?"

Mike looked across at Steve and nodded and Steve leaned forward and began to speak. "Mr Nixon... Martin... I can understand you being angry at being in here, but please listen to me. We're not here to heap more coals upon you. I think we may be able to help you. New evidence has come to light that may, or may not, have a bearing on the murder of your late wife, Cherry Nixon. I need you to bear with me and answer the questions I have for you."

Nixon sat up taller in his seat and placed his hands on the table in front of him. "You mean the murder I didn't do but am serving time for? What new evidence? Have you found out I didn't do it? I didn't you know. Honestly, I did not kill my wife. I loved her. We didn't have the perfect, loving marriage that I hoped for when I married her, but... I... did... not... kill... her! Whatever, she did to hurt me I could never kill her."

"If it's any consolation, I don't believe you did kill your wife, and neither does Lieutenant Stone. The critical part for us is proving it. Now, what we're trying to do is to gather enough evidence together to warrant re-opening the case and that's why we're here."

Martin Nixon's eyes had widened as he'd listened to what Steve had to say, and his voice suddenly changed to a pleading tone. "I'll do anything to get out of here. I'm sorry if I came across as aggressive and hostile. It's being in here. It does something to you. It changes a man. I never used to be like this but, to survive, you learn not to trust anyone and to be defensive in everything you do. How can I help you? Just tell me and I'll co-operate with you."

"Let's start with you telling us something about your marriage and why you left work that evening, and then I want you to talk us through the events of that night."

For the next twenty minutes Steve took the lead in questioning Nixon in depth with occasional questions slipped in by Mike. Paul was diligently taking notes of their conversation. As he was doing so he was totally enthralled by Steve and the way he was precise and exacting in his questioning of Nixon, and he also couldn't help but feel in awe of Steve's working relationship with Mike. Paul knew that, no matter how long he partnered Mike, he would never achieve that same bond with him.

Steve continued his questioning. "Can I ask you about the book on the bedside table. This didn't seem to come up in the trial and I'm puzzled as to why. The title of the book was "Long Day's Journey into Night" by Eugene O'Neill. Now it's actually a screen play not a novel and pretty heavy going. Is this the typical sort of book your wife would read?"

"My wife hardly ever read but, if she did, she'd read women's magazines or paperback romance books, Inspector. I told the police I'd never heard of that book and I'd never seen it at the side of her bed before, but the police officers who investigated the case seemed to take no notice of me when I told them I was sure it wasn't my wife's book, and my lawyer said it was just a book and had no bearing on the case either. Now I have no idea how it got there but I'm pretty damn sure she wouldn't choose it as bedtime reading, and I know for a fact it wasn't mine. Does it mean something to you, Inspector? Is this the new evidence you've come up with? I don't understand how it helps my case."

"Let's just say it's a significant part of our ongoing investigations. Do you have any other questions for Martin, Mike?"

"No, I think that about covers everything for the moment. You've been most helpful, Martin, thank you. Now I have to stress upon you that these are just preliminary investigations we're carrying out at the moment. If they lead where we think they will, then I'm hopeful we can re-open the case. I have to say don't get your hopes up too much at this stage but, rest assured, we'll do all we can to see that the right man is brought to justice for the murder of your wife."

"Thank you... all of you." Martin's voice began to tremble, and his face began to crease up. "It's the first hope I've been given since I came in here. Just the thought that I might be proven innocent and one day get out of here, has finally given me a reason to go on. When will I hear more from you?"

"Soon, I hope, Martin. We'll get on with the investigations as quickly as we can, but we have to do it all by the book, and these things take time and can't be rushed," Mike explained with compassion. "I promise you that as soon as we know something we'll get back in contact with you." Mike nodded to the guard standing by the door. "Thank you, we're finished here for now."

Martin Nixon stood, "I'd like to shake your hands, gentlemen, but I'm not allowed to, so I'll just thank you once more." He turned and left the room.

"Well, Steve, what do you think?" Mike asked as he leant back in his chair and rested his right ankle over his left knee.

Steve was shuffling papers back into the file he'd brought with him. He stopped what he was doing, stared at the file, and without raising his head he spoke in a soft but sure tone. "That man is innocent, Mike. I'd stake my life on it, and the sooner we can get him out of this hell-hole the better." He looked up and Mike noted the determined look on Steve's face. He watched him as Steve gathered up the rest of the papers and passed them to Paul.

"Did you get all that down, Paul?" Steve asked.

"Yes, Steve, all noted. Do you want me to type it up when we get back or do you want to do it yourself?"

"Can you type them up for me and I'll look over them. I'm hoping the lab may have done some tests on that book and the button by the time we get back, then we can take it to Rudy. Mike, are you happy with that?"

"Yes, that's fine. I totally agree with you. He doesn't deserve to be here. Let's get back to Bryant Street and see what Charlie has for us."


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

It was the following morning before Steve got the call he was waiting for from the lab.

"Steve, it's Charlie. You were right. There are finger prints on the book and inside the book that we can match with George Hennessey. There are words highlighted in red ink on pages forty two, seventy one and one hundred and seventeen. Those words are 'vengeance'... 'is' ...and 'mine'. I also found a human hair between the pages of seventy one and seventy two and it matches hair samples taken from Sonia Logan's bedroom which we previously matched with those of George Hennessey."

"Yes, we've got him! What about the button? Does that match too?" Steve could hardly contain his excitement.

"It does! The button found on the floor in Cherry Nixon's bedroom exactly matches the buttons on the check jacket taken from George Hennessey's closet. The replacement button is almost identical but not quite. It had also been sewn on with different thread from that with which the other buttons were sewn on. I'd say you've got him bang to rights on this one, Steve. He won't be able to wriggle his way out of this."

Steve could hear the pleasure in Charlie's voice at a job well done. "Thanks very much, Charlie. Can you let me have your report ASAP, please?"

"It's already on it's way up to you, Steve. I can imagine how good you must feel about results like this. Well done for picking it up in the first place."

"Thanks, Charlie. It was pure chance I saw the photo, but it's days like these that make my job worthwhile." Steve replaced the receiver and crossed to Mike's office.

"We've got him on all the evidence! Charlie's sending the report up now." Steve was beaming. "That slimy toad is going down, and Martin Nixon will soon be on his way out of San Quentin."

"That's fantastic news, Steve, and it's all down to your eagle-eyes for spotting that book in the photo in the first place. When we get the lab report we'll go together to see Rudy, and I'll phone Gerry and ask if he can meet us there too."

When they met with Gerry and Rudy later that Thursday afternoon in Rudy's office they laid out all the new evidence that had come to light concerning the murder of Cherry Nixon on August 12th 1970 for Gerry and Rudy to peruse, and Steve gave a full and detailed report to his superior officer and to the Assistant DA of all that had come to light.

"I can hardly believe the sheer luck that you had, Steve, in finding that all important photograph and then rooting out the damning evidence that's led from it," Gerry said as he looked at the enlarged photograph in his hand. "I'm going to need time to study the Nixon case and all the new evidence that has come to light, but not only does it mean that Martin Nixon will more than likely be pardoned, but it's also made it possible for Hennessey to be charged with yet another murder. Combining all the evidence together means that it's more than likely that no defence attorney, no matter how good, will be able to get him off. I wasn't the prosecutor on the Nixon case, so I need you to leave this with me and give me time to go through it. I suggest we meet again in my office on Monday morning. If it's all correct, as it appears to be, then I'll arrange a meeting with Hennessey and Brannigan probably for Monday afternoon... no Tuesday. You're at the academy on Monday afternoon aren't you Steve?"

"Yes, I am. I'd really like to be in on the interview with Hennessey, so Tuesday would suit me better. I want to see that smug smile wiped off his face once and for all." It was evident to all present in the room that Steve was hyped up, and no-one wanted to deny him a piece of the action. It was his sterling detective work that had got them this far, and it was only fair that he should be present when Hennessey was questioned. Having been consigned to desk work for several months, Steve was relishing being able to get his teeth into some proper police work again.

Gerry looked at Steve and Mike. "My own personal belief is that the odds stacked against Hennessey are so great that he'll fold and admit his guilt, but he's so arrogant I wouldn't put it past him to try and brazen it out," he speculated to them both. "He certainly has the money to afford to plead not guilty and take it to trial, but it would save everyone a great deal of time and effort if he admitted guilt on both counts, but who knows what the sleaze bag will do. We have to hope Brannigan talks him out of it."

"Let's hope so. He might try to talk his way out of one murder on a technicality by accusing me of incorrect arrest procedures, but combine the two cases together, and he's on a hiding to nothing if he tries to worm his way out of both murders. Brannigan's good but not that good... I hope," Steve could barely raise a smile this time.

"Steve, Gerry's told you countless times that Hennessey's attempt to get the Logan case thrown out on that particular technicality won't work, so quit worrying yourself into an early grave over it for goodness sake," Mike said trying to reassure Steve for the umpteenth time.

"Right, gentlemen, leave it with me and I'll get back to you," Gerry said as he gathered up all the papers. He made his goodbyes and left the office leaving Mike and Steve with Rudy.

"I have to commend you, Steve, on the work you've done and the excellent presentation of the findings to myself and Gerry. I can only echo something that Mike said to me earlier this week... the day can't come soon enough for all of us when you're finally signed fit to return to normal duties."

"Thanks, Rudy, I really appreciate you saying that... you too, Mike. I can't wait to be back in full harness again either. I think I'm getting RSI in my two typing fingers," he laughed as he held up the index fingers on each hand and wiggled them.

"What's RSI when it's out, Steve?" asked Rudy with a puzzled look on his face.

"Repetitive strain injury, Rudy... you know... from typing too many reports!" he grinned at his Captain.

"Well why didn't you say so instead of wrapping it up in fancy lingo? I can't keep up with you youngsters these days. Everything has to have initials or a hidden meaning and I'm blowed if I can work it out."

"That's exactly what I tell him, Rudy. Come on hot-shot, let's get you back to that typewriter. I think your fingers have had enough rest for one day. Those reports won't type themselves."

"Don't I know it, slave driver!"

Mike grabbed the back of Steve's neck as he turned for the door and gave him a gentle, playful shove as he followed him out of the office.

"Hey, be careful, you nearly pushed me over then!"

"No, I didn't. Don't exaggerate. It was just a little shove."

"It was more than a little shove. I may be on one and a half feet now, but I still don't have perfect balance, you know."

"Moan, moan, moan! That's all I get from you these days!" Rudy had to smile as he listened to his favourite detective pairing as they made their way across his secretary's office to the outer door arguing comically all the way.

Steve was on tenterhooks all weekend. He was so keyed up that he wasn't sleeping well and, without proper rest at night, his leg muscles didn't relax and tended to ache more than usual. He'd hardly been able to concentrate in his classes with the cadets at the academy on Friday afternoon, and by Monday afternoon word had somehow leaked out and reached the academy that Steve had unearthed new information on an old murder. The advanced cadets, who had become used to studying past cases, were agog to hear more about it and pressed Steve relentlessly for more information.

"I'm sorry but you should all know by now that I cannot discuss an on-going investigation with any of you. You can wonder and speculate as much as you like, and I dare say you will, but I won't be pressed or drawn into divulging anything, so let's get on with our class." He had spoken very firmly, but there were still some rumblings and whisperings amongst the cadets to the rear of the room. They were behaving like school kids instead of future police officers, and Steve's lack of sleep was making him short-tempered. He had no choice but to get tough and raise his voice to them.

"Okay, that's enough! I've told you the subject is closed. Now let's get on." Steve had finally taken control of his class and the rumblings slowly settled. "If I can have your attention please! I'm sorry but my time this week has, of necessity, been taken up with other matters and I haven't had time to prepare any specific closed cases for us to study, so I thought we could discuss a different topic. Without being specific in any way, I thought we'd address the subject 'What happens if a police officer makes a mistake?' Right, I'll just voice some general thoughts to start us off. Firstly, recognise your mistake and have the courage to own up to it. It never does any good to try to cover it up or try to blame anyone else, and never allow anyone else to take the blame on your behalf. We're all human and we all make mistakes at one time or another, but your superiors will go easier on you if you willingly own up to your own mistakes. Remember, if you do try to cover it up in any way, there's a high chance you will always get found out. You're joining the police department. Solving crimes and conundrums from outside, or within, is what we're all about. Trying to lie your way out of trouble is a pathway fraught with disaster and will only compound the problem. As Mike Stone would tell you... a liar must have a very good memory... and... a liar will always be found out. Right, I'm throwing it open to you for your comments." The rest of the afternoon passed without further problems, but Steve was glad to reach home that evening. It had been so hard to switch his brain off from the Hennessey case and, for the first time since his sessions at the academy had begun, he really wished he had been anywhere other than there that afternoon. As he lay in his bed that night waiting for sleep to wash over him, he wondered just what the next day would bring. Nervous anticipation was preventing sleep, and it was a long while before he finally dropped off, but his sleep was once more far from restful.

It was early on Tuesday afternoon and Gerry was talking with Mike and Steve as the three men made their way across the Halls of Justice to the County Jail where George Hennessey was being held awaiting trial for the murder of Sonia Logan. His attorney, Dermot Brannigan, had been informed of their need to interview his client with the intention of charging him with the murder of Cherry Nixon, and Gerry had fully appraised Brannigan of all the new developments and evidence in this re-opened case. Brannigan had requested time with his client before the interview began and Steve and the others sat together waiting to be called in to the interview room. Eventually, Brannigan emerged from the room and called them in, holding the door open for each of them to enter. Three chairs had been placed on one side of the table opposite Hennessey and his lawyer who sat on the other side of the table. Gerry placed the file he was carrying on the table and opened it. Mike also placed the file he was carrying on the table, but pushed it across to Steve and he too opened it.

Brannigan opened the discussion as soon as all were seated. "Gentlemen. I have conversed fully with my client and I have to tell you that, on my advice, Mr Hennessey has decided to change his plea in the case of the murder of Sonia Logan to guilty as charged. Also, having been fully appraised of the information that you have gathered on the re-opened case into the murder of Cherry Nixon, he is prepared to plead guilty to that murder too. He also wishes to have three more murders taken into consideration and to plead guilty to those too. They are the murders of Rose Baxter in Denver, Colorado in May of 1971, Elvira Gomez in Saratoga, California in September of 1973 and Emily Harding in Fresno, California in February 1974. He also wishes it to be made known, and clearly understood, that he is prepared to co-operate fully with any questioning, and this full co-operation should be brought to the attention of the judge when sentencing is to be decided."

Throughout the entire speech that Brannigan had just made, Hennessey had not so much as moved a muscle either in his body or in his facial expression. He stared at the table and didn't pick his eyes up till Brannigan had finished speaking. Then he slowly raised his head and locked his eyes upon Steve for several seconds, then a scornful smirk started to slowly spread across his face. Steve couldn't suppress his anger. He made a movement to rise from his chair.

"Son of a gun! You're admitting to five? You smug bast...!"

"Steve! Please!" Mike interrupted quite harshly, but it was enough to quell any further comment from Steve who was seething inside and struggling to control his anger with great difficulty. He settled back on his chair again.

"Tut...tut...tut! So the cripple can speak, can he? But what bad language he uses!" Hennessey was openly taunting Steve.

Brannigan put his hand on his client's arm. "I suggest you stow it, Hennessey, unless you have anything constructive to say." And Hennessey fell silent though the smirk remained fixed on his face as he continued to stare at Steve.

Gerry O'Brien looked up from the file in front of him. "Well, well, well, Hennessey. So the truth will out... eventually. It was a long-time coming, but it seems it was well worth waiting for. We'll now have to look at the cases you've mentioned in detail and we'll see you again for questioning at a later date. Lieutenant Stone, will you officially make the arrest please?"

"Oh, no, I think I'll pass, Gerry. Those honours should go to Inspector Keller," Mike replied as he looked at Steve and nodded to him.

Steve rose shakily to his feet, but his voice was strong as he stared long and hard at Hennessey and then began to speak. "George Hennessey, you have already admitted to the murder of Sonia Logan and been charged. I am now formally arresting you and charging you with the murder of Cherry Nixon. I also have to inform you that, as you have admitted to the murders of Rose Baxter, Elvira Gomez and Emily Harding, I am also arresting you and charging you with their murders." He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and removed a card which he held pointedly out in front of him and proceeded to read. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights? I would hate there to be any misunderstanding between us... again!"

Hennessey just stared at Steve smirking cockily all the time. "There was no misunderstanding for me before In... spect… or! It was you that got things wrong. Anyway, It's a bit academic don't you think, since I already have a very expensive attorney that I'm well able to afford to pay for?"

"Academic or not, I'll be there in court to hear the judge sentence you, Hennessey. You'll be lucky to escape the electric chair."

"You do that! By the way... do they allow cripples in court? I'm even amazed they allow them in the police department these days. Quite a dumbing down of the service, wouldn't you agree, Brannigan."

"I won't tell you again, Hennessey. If you want me to remain your lawyer I suggest you take my advice and watch your mouth. You're doing your case no good whatsoever."

"Hmm! You're probably right. After all, your very expensive advice... is... what I'm paying you for. You see gentlemen, my lawyer here is the best in San Francisco. I don't think the chair is where I'm likely to be heading. As for those women! Well... all of them got what they deserved. The likes of them... yes, even my own mother... treated me worse than a dog when I was younger. It mentally scarred me for life. I was treated like dirt. But not any longer! I got back at them. Dirty hookers! Vengeance was finally mine... and I delivered swift and divine retribution! I actually did the world a favour!"

Steve was sickened by Hennessey's words but refused to allow himself to rise to it. He looked across at Gerry who was rapidly taking notes. "Did you get all that, Gerry?" And, at his nod, he then turned to Mike. "Let's get out of here. We have work to do."

As the three of them left the room Steve began to feel lightheaded and was shaking quite badly. They were followed very shortly after by Dermot Brannigan.

"Gentlemen, I have to say I take no pleasure whatsoever in acting as attorney for the likes of Hennessey. The other murders he admitted to, came as just as much of a shock to me as they did to you. I'll do my best to see that he co-operates fully with you, or any other police officers from the other cities, throughout any further investigations."

Mike was shaking his head. "I knew he'd have no choice but to admit to the murders of Nixon and Logan, but I was shocked to hear him bring up the other three, though I did say to Steve that there was a possibility he could've committed other murders in the intervening years. I wonder if five will be the final total or if more will come to light when publicity gets out."

Brannigan tried to reassure Mike. "I asked him that most strongly and he assured me five is the total. He's got nothing to gain by keeping quiet about any others. He said that it would only be a matter of time before it was likely that publicity would cause the other murders to come to light, so by pleading guilty to all five and sparing the state the cost of a trial, he's thinking the judge will go easy on him and he'll avoid the death penalty. You saw and heard his reaction. He's implying he was turned against women from childhood by abuse from his own mother. He's even spoken to me about going down the road of pleading insanity. He thinks his money and contacts can buy his way into some fancy psychiatric facility to live out his life in comfort. I have to say that, in my experienced opinion, anyone who kills five women in cold blood, for whatever reason, must have a degree of insanity. I'm his lawyer so I have to get the best deal I can for him but, personally, and off the record, I hope he fries! No doubt I'll hear from you soon about further questioning Mr O'Brien. Good day to you all." He walked towards the door and then turned back to speak again. "Oh, and Lieutenant Stone... you'd better find that young man a chair and sit him down before he falls down!"

"What? Who? Steve... are you okay?" He made a grab for Steve as his legs began to buckle beneath him. "Gerry, grab that chair and help me get him onto it. That's it. Put your head down between your knees, Steve. Concentrate on your breathing and breathe slowly and deeply. That's it. Gerry, find me some water will you please? I think there was some in the interview room. Take it easy, Steve. You're okay. That's it." A couple of minutes passed and then Steve slowly raised his head.

"I'm okay, Mike... really... it's passing off now." Gerry pushed a glass of cold water into his hands that he'd poured from a water cooler in the interview room, and Steve drank deeply. Mike removed a clean, white handkerchief from his jacket pocket, took the glass off Steve, and poured some of the cold water onto it and let it soak in. He then handed the glass back to Steve and placed the wet handkerchief on the back of Steve's neck and held it there.

"How's that? Feeling better now?"

"Yes, thanks... much better." Steve answered as the colour slowly began to return to his face.

"What was that all about, Buddy Boy?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. One minute I was fine and the next..."

Gerry spoke out as he stood watching Mike tend to Steve. "Hennessey was goading you, Steve. That, plus the mental tension of the last few days, finally got to you. I can't help but notice you've been living on your nerves for the past week proving this case, and then came the shock of hearing him admit to those other three murders! Wow! None of us were expecting that. He's an arrogant swine. If you hadn't found reason to re-open the Nixon case those others might never have come to light either. This case just keeps unravelling more and more."

Mike could see Steve's colour had slowly returned to normal. "I think you're right, Gerry. Have you eaten today, Steve?"

"Er... no... I was too keyed up to eat this morning or at lunch time. Plus, I'm afraid I didn't sleep too well. My leg was playing up quite badly this morning and I took my stronger painkillers on an empty stomach. Stupid...huh? Thank God that didn't happen in front of Hennessey! He'd have just loved that."

"You can say that again!" Mike countered.

Steve looked up at both men. "Hennessey's unbelievable and, knowing him, he might just get the soft-option that he wants. I wouldn't put anything past him. When you think about it though, better computer cross-referencing can't come into our police world soon enough, and shared across the states too. I'd lay odds on it that he left copies of that book at the sites of those other murders in Denver, Saratoga and Fresno. If those investigating officers could've linked that book with the first murder in San Francisco, Hennessey could probably have been caught a lot sooner. Computers will push the way forward in criminal investigations in the near future and, personally, I can't wait."

"You and your computers. He's always reading about them, Gerry. You youngsters think they're going to solve everything. They're a useful tool I grant you, but I can't ever see them working across state lines."

"I'm sorry, Mike, but I agree with Steve on this," Gerry said and smiled at the look on Mike's face. "They'll be the investigative tool of the future and not just across state lines but across the world too. It may not be quick enough for your time with the SFPD, but it's coming, and like Steve here says, it can't come soon enough. Mark my words, it'll be a new computer revolution in the crime and forensic science world."

"Well, call me old fashioned if you like, but unless they can get a computer to pour me a coffee, or make a burger or a bowl of hot chilli, I'm not interested at the moment. Come on, Steve, we'll slip off somewhere and get you something to eat. Gerry, will you join us?"

"You know, Mike, I think perhaps I will. I'll play hookey for an hour or so. I think I'm going to need all the sustenance I can get, and we can raise a cup of coffee to Steve and to a job well done. Mind you, I'm not sure whether to thank him or not. Just think of the mountain of paperwork and phone calls this is going to create," he laughed and placed his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Come on, let's get you fed, Wonder Boy."

"Ha Ha! That's a good one, Gerry. Wonder Boy indeed!" Mike chuckled.

"Don't, Gerry, please. He has enough names that he calls me already without giving him more!" Steve pleaded, but with a broad grin on his face.

Mike helped Steve to his feet and he continued to chuckle all the way back to his LTD in the car park of Bryant Street. "What say we go to Mama's eh? Can you last out that long, Steve?"

"Sure, Mike. I can last out even longer if you're paying!"

"Don't push your luck... Wonder Boy!"

The three of them laughed as they enjoyed the joke together and climbed into Mike's car. He turned the engine over, threw it into first gear and pulled out of the parking lot.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Gerry O'Brien was right, Hennessey's admissions did create a lot of new work both for himself and for Steve. Gerry was liaising with the District Attorney's offices in Denver, Saratoga and Fresno, as to who was to try the case. As Hennessey was pleading guilty to all five murders, four of them in California, the DA's offices in the other cities, even Denver across the state-line, looked likely to accept that he should be tried for all five in San Francisco. Meanwhile, Steve had been designated to liaise with police officers in those same cities on behalf of the SFPD. Phone lines and fax lines between all offices were running red-hot. Three unsolved murders had been solved and officers in the other three cities were more than happy. Gerry had also submitted reports to Judge Moran of the Appeal Court and, after studying the submissions made to him, he passed the papers to the Governor's office with a recommendation that Martin Nixon be granted a full pardon. It would take a little time for this to go through, but Nixon was informed that he would be free to leave San Quentin for good in a matter of days.

Dermot Brannigan was also right. Hennessey attended his pre-trial hearing the following day and changed his plea to guilty... but by reason of insanity. Judge Beresford ordered medical examinations, evaluations and reports to be compiled and sentencing was adjourned for four weeks. It was only what had been expected.

On the Tuesday morning of the following week Steve and Mike made the eighteen mile journey over the Golden Gate Bridge, through Marin County, and up to San Quentin. At precisely 9.00 am the prison gates opened and Martin Nixon walked out a free man. He was carrying a large paper sack and walked straight into the waiting arms of his sister and brother in law. Mike and Steve leaned back on the hood of their LTD and watched Martin hugging first his sister then her husband, and then he looked across to Mike and Steve and walked towards them with his right hand outstretched to shake the hands of both men.

"Lieutenant... Inspector... I can't thank both of you enough for what you've done for me. You've given me back my freedom and my life, and you've also given my wife justice. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"Oh, I think we do, Martin," Mike said warmly. "We've put a lot of men in San Quentin over the years, and it makes a change for us to see a wrongly convicted man walk out of here a free man. Sadly, we live in an imperfect world and, no matter how hard we try, there's always the possibility that a case gets wrongly handled and an innocent man does get convicted. It looks like you not only got a raw deal with the police officers who investigated your wife's murder, but it appears you also had a less than adequate defence attorney. Trust me, internal investigations into this case are being looked into."

"I'd like to be able to say you've given me back my faith in the criminal justice system, and you have... partly, but I think it'll be a good while before I trust the law again to any great extent. Not only did I lose my wife but I was very lucky to escape the electric chair. I've also lost nearly five years of my life, and I can never get those years back. I've gone through the whole gamut of anger, relief and a need for revenge over the past few days since I last saw you, and I've had a lot of time to think. Living with anger and looking for payback is not going to bring my wife back or be any good for me. For my own dignity and sanity I know, somehow, I have to put the past behind me and find a way to move on."

"Well, we're only so sorry it took so long for the wrong that has been done to you to be uncovered and corrected. You have Steve here to thank for that. I actually had very little to do with it."

Martin turned once more to Steve. "Well, thank you, Inspector. It's very much appreciated. I heard that Hennessey is changing his plea to guilty by reason of insanity. Is that true?"

"Yes, it is," Steve answered. "It's a double-edged sword really. He's pleaded guilty to all five murders so he'd be certain to get a minimum of life imprisonment with no hope of parole or, more likely, the death penalty, though the State of California even has that under debate at the moment. By choosing to plead guilty by reason of insanity or mental illness, he'll certainly spend the rest of his life in a high security, psychiatric facility if the judge accepts the plea on the basis of the psychiatric reports. Either way he'll be locked up for life and be removed from society, but possibly just a little more comfortably in a psychiatric facility."

"Either way, we win. He's not going to walk free?" Martin asked, though with a satisfied smile on his face.

"No, he definitely won't walk free. What are your plans now? Do you have somewhere to live?" Steve asked.

"I'll be staying with my sister for a while until I can get on my feet. I need to find a job first and, although I've received a full pardon from the Governor, you know what they say... once a criminal, always a criminal, and I'm afraid mud sticks. I'm not expecting it to be easy to find a job, but I'll keep plugging away until I do. I don't care how menial it is. I just want to earn enough so I can pay my own way and hopefully find an apartment to rent and start my life again. If I was on parole I'd get some help finding a job, but gaining my freedom this way means I don't get any help, but I'll do it somehow."

"That's my cue to step in. Hopefully, I may be able to help you there," Steve's words caught Martin's avid attention. "I heard you're pretty handy with electrics and have been working in the maintenance department here while serving your time. I've been working part-time at the Police Academy at Diamond Heights for the last few months while I've been laid up with this leg injury, and I happened to hear that the administrator, Hector Graves, is looking for a full-time janitor to work with the cleaning and maintenance team there. I don't know if it's what you're looking for, but it would certainly serve as a stop-gap until something better comes along. He's given me a card with his details and has said, if you ring him, he'll set up an interview for you. I've put in a good word for you so, to be honest, I think the interview will be a foregone conclusion. What do you think?"

"What do I think, Inspector? I think you're amazing that's what I think. I'm blown away that you would do this for me. If I get the job, then the fact that the Police Academy are prepared to take me on can only be a good thing for any future potential employers to bear in mind, if I ever decided to look elsewhere for a job. I'll be honest, after my brush with the cops had me ending up in here nearly five years ago, I'm not crazy about getting in close proximity with them again, but I suppose there's good and bad in all walks of life, and just because I got a raw deal five years ago doesn't mean all cops are the same. You and the Lieutenant here have proved that to me. So, I'll say thank you very much and accept your help. I'm so grateful and I'll definitely give Mr Graves a call. You say you work there, Inspector, so I may see you sometime."

"You may indeed. I'll look forward to it. By the way, it's Mike and Steve. I think we all know each other well enough by now to dispense with the formalities, don't you? We were going to give you a lift back to the city, but you've obviously got that covered, so we'll say goodbye and good luck and we'll maybe see you around."

"Thank you... Steve... and you too, Mike." Handshakes were exchanged, and Steve made his way back to the passenger side of the car and, by the time he had manoeuvred himself in, Mike had joined him, and they began the return journey to Bryant Street.

"That was a heartening sight to see, Buddy Boy. I hope he does well. You never told me about that possible job at the academy."

"It was only definitely confirmed last night before I left after classes. It's a genuine vacancy too. I hope he does well, in fact, I'm sure he will. Anyone who can put the past behind him like he's prepared to do, deserves a break. Now, we'd better get a move on and get back to Bryant Street. Don't forget I've got that appointment with Dr Truman at noon."

"You know in all the excitement I'd forgotten that. How do you think you'll get on this time? Any ideas what he'll say?"

"Well, I'm in nowhere near as much pain as I was, and I know I'm getting stronger every day. If he stands by what he said last time, I should now be allowed full weight-bearing for another six weeks then the frame can come off. That'll take me up to about mid April, then I suppose there'll be another few weeks whilst I build back up to full strength again. There's still a long way to go, Mike. I just hope the police medical examiners eventually sign me off as fit to return to normal duties. Don't forget Lenny needs to sign me off too. There's still a chance they could pension me off on the grounds of disability. I'm dreading the thought and I don't know what I'll do if they refuse to allow me back."

"Oh, I don't think that's likely to happen. I'm no doctor, but even I can see that you're improving day by day, and I know Lenny is well pleased with you. I'm confident that you'll get your old job back. The top brass in their fancy offices upstairs know a good man when they see one. They won't want to let you go. They're always looking to the future and looking for intelligent and level headed officers to work with the forward planning of the department, and they're not going to want to lose an officer like you. Even if the doctors say you can't return to normal duties, which I very much doubt, they won't want to lose you. I know for a fact that Jonas Lyle is more than happy with your work at the academy, and he'd be more than willing to take you on there if it ever came to it. No, Buddy Boy, I think I can safely say that, come what may, your career in the department is secure and, even if it's not front-line, they'll always find a niche for you somewhere." Mike was trying to reassure Steve but, if he hadn't been driving and could only have taken the time to study Steve's face instead of just take a sidelong glance now and again, he'd have realised that instead of reassuring him, his words were having quite the opposite effect on his young partner.

Steve's response was fierce and unexpected. "That's just it though, Mike. I don't want some forward planning job in some office deep in the bowels of Bryant Street, nor do I want some airy-fairy, fabricated, nursemaid job at the academy. I want my own job back... my job... not some niche specially created just to hold onto me! Can't you see that? Don't you get that?" His voice was rising almost uncontrollably, and Mike needed to stop the car and devote all his attention to his partner. There was a side turn coming up and Mike turned right into a quiet side street, and pulled up alongside the curb. He turned the engine off and turned to face Steve who was clearly very agitated.

"Now hang on a minute, Steve! That's not what I meant and you know it! I don't know how this perfectly ordinary conversation suddenly got twisted and took you off at a tangent. You know I want you back. I've never made any secret of the fact, and I've supported you right from day one all along the way. Perhaps what I was saying didn't come across exactly how I meant it to. Where has all this angst come from? You were fine earlier on. What happened?"

Steve was breathing heavily and looking out of the side window. He was clearly trying to marshal his thoughts and control his temper before he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Mike. It's my fault not yours. I guess I let my fears run away with me... yet again. I think it was talking to Martin Nixon about him getting his life back on track that got me thinking. I'm in a similar position myself. These last few months have been hard, Mike, not just physically, but emotionally too. I've had my life torn apart by the accident and I'm trying to find a way to rebuild it back to where it was before, with no guarantees at the end of it. Yes, I'm doing loads of good work at Bryant Street and making myself useful, and yes, contrary to my initial beliefs, I'm actually enjoying my time at the academy. It's been an enlightening experience and something that I can park at the back of my brain should I ever need to think about it in the future, but I'm just marking time, Mike. It's not where I want to be... not now... not at this stage of my life. Working on the Hennessey case as I have been over the last couple of weeks, having you pass the lead to me when we questioned Martin Nixon, allowing me to make the Hennessey arrest, all the liaison work with other officers across the state and beyond... all those things have made me realise how much I love working in homicide and how much I want my old job back at your side. I want to be the one driving this car helter skelter through the streets with the red cherry flashing, not sitting in the passenger seat. I want to be the one coming to pick you up in the mornings, not the other way around. I want to be the one who accompanies you out of the bullpen on a call out, not Paul. I want... damn it... I want my own job back, and it scares the hell out of me sometimes that I might not get it back. Now do you see what I'm getting at?"

"Buddy Boy, I always knew what you were getting at. You seem to forget you're not the only one that this accident affected. You know, my world was turned upside down too the night you fell out of that window. It's not been easy for me either. I want the same things that you want too. The difference is, I'm confident in my belief that I'll have you back, while you're still insecure about your future. I said the same as the doctors right at the start of all this... you have to take it one day at a time. There's no rushing it and there's no point in second-guessing it. It only gets you in a stew."

"I know, Mike, and I'm sorry. I've been injured several times, but never this bad nor for so long. I've never let it get to me like this before and I really don't like what it's doing to me... and to us. I get angry with myself for losing it with you and for getting this insecure. The accident and the PTSD has had me on an emotional roller-coaster so many times since it happened, and you've always been there for me. I'm just so grateful I can always rely on you to talk sense into me."

Mike reached over and placed his right hand on Steve's left arm and gave it a squeeze, and Steve returned the gesture by placing his right hand over Mike's as the older man replied, "I'm feeling it too, Steve. I've got so used to you by my side every day and it's like a huge piece of me is missing. I think what we both need is to calm down, let nature and healing take it's course, and for things to just get back to normal."

Steve was feeling much calmer and felt the time had come to lighten the conversation. "You're right, Mike, and that's not the only thing that's missing and needs to get back to normal, Mike. Do you know, I haven't had a lady in my life since this whole she-bang started? Any extraneous night-time activities have been seriously curtailed by this damn frame for the duration, and that's something else that's frustrating me!"

"Finally, we get to the bottom of it!" Mike slapped his hand on the wheel. "You and your big words. It's obvious what's wrong with you, Buddy Boy. You're sex starved! I'll have to find you a lovely little lady for some smoochy-smoochy," he leered at Steve. "How about Mabel on the front-desk? I know she's probably the wrong side of fifty, but you know what they say about older women... there might be snow on the roof but there's often a raging fire in the grate! And older women come with plenty of experience, and without the hang-ups of the young. She could maybe even teach you a thing or two, and I think she fancies you. I've noticed her giving you the glad eye whenever we pass by her desk."

"Idiot! Anyway, she's more your type than mine, and haven't you noticed she's got a squint in one eye? That glad eye you say she's giving me, is probably her having the glad eye for you. It just gets... misdirected... a bit."

"She has no eye, glad or otherwise, for me. I tell you it's you she fancies. The women of San Francisco had better watch out come the summer. When that frame finally comes off your leg, they'll all be queueing up! I can see I'll have to take out a full page ad in the newspapers. 'To all the parents of girls aged between eighteen and thirty. Beware and lock up your daughters. Steve Keller is back!' Oh yes, sir. "

"Eighteen to thirty, eh? I think we can stretch that a bit to eighteen to forty. I actually quite like older women. You're right about them having more experience. But by then I think I'll be open to any offers... just not Mabel... please!"

Anyone passing the parked LTD would have wondered what the two men inside were laughing so heartily about.

"Come on let's get you back. You have an appointment to keep." Mike started the car and once more headed back in the direction of Bryant Street. When he pulled up in the parking lot he turned to Steve once more.

"I've been thinking."

"Oh no! That's always dangerous!"

"I'll ignore that jibe. You know what we need? We need a fun night out."

"We're not back on that subject again, are we? I think you've got a one-track mind."

"Ha ha! Not that kind of fun, hotshot! How about we go bowling? We could ask Bill and Lee, or Dan and Norm, to make up a foursome tonight. Let our hair down and blow off some steam. How about it?"

"Mike, you may not have noticed, but I can hardly stand without falling over at the moment, let alone bowl a sixteen pound ball down a bowling alley. How can I possibly go bowling?"

"Well, firstly, by tonight I figure you'll be fully weight-bearing on that leg... albeit with crutches. Secondly, we can allow you to use a lighter ball, and thirdly, you can bowl from a standing position with one crutch for support. No gliding and sliding for you tonight."

"You really think it would work?"

"I don't see why not. It's better than keeping score and watching us all night like you have been doing. Come on, where's your spirit of adventure?"

"I think I must have left it under that viburnum bush five months ago."

"Wise-guy! I really don't see a problem. What's the worst that could happen?"

"The worst that could happen is I fall on my ass and break the other leg! Then I'd have a matching pair of frames. Is that what you want?"

"That won't happen. If push comes to shove, I'll hold you up while you bowl."

"It's the words 'push' and 'shove' together in the same sentence that bother me! Oh, alright. I'll give it a go... but no cheating!"

"Me? Cheat? I never cheat. Okay... sometimes I may bend the rules a little, just so they fit better, that's all. So, we're on then, Buddy Boy?"

"We're on! You can ask the others. I have to get ready to go and see the good doctor soon and I want a drink and to freshen up first."

"Okay. I'll see you later, and Steve... don't mention bowling to him. He'd likely have a fit."

As they separated, each to go their own separate ways, Mike back to the office and Steve to the coffee shop in the lobby, both were feeling much more light hearted, and it was noticeable only to them that both avoided looking in the direction of Mabel as they passed her as she stood behind her welcome desk with a smile on her face and a glint in her eye.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Steve bent and picked up the newspaper that had been pushed through his door. He was now fully weight-bearing since his last appointment with Dr Truman. He took it into his kitchen to read with a cup of coffee before he left for work at Bryant Street. He looked at the headline emblazoned on the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle dated April 3rd 1975.

 **Serial killer gets life imprisonment**

 **Serial killer George Hennessey was yesterday found guilty of the murders of five women in two states over the past four years and sentenced to life imprisonment without parole. Hennessey did not deny he had committed the murders, but his plea of guilty by reason of insanity or medical illness, was thrown** **out yesterday by Judge Beresford after detailed psychiatric examinations and evaluations had failed to prove that he was suffering from any underlying psychiatric condition. His defence lawyer offered up mitigating circumstances dating back to Hennessey's troubled childhood, which were taken into consideration during sentencing, and succeeded in him avoiding the death penalty. He was taken to San Quentin to begin his sentence.**

 **Martin Nixon, whose wife, Cherry, was Hennessey's first victim in August 1970, was wrongly convicted of her murder and sentenced to life imprisonment and to serve a minimum of twenty-five years before he could apply for parole. He has since spent more than four years in San Quentin, but has now been released following a full pardon from the Governor of California.**

 **The connection between the five murders, which took place in San Francisco, Denver, Saratoga and Fresno over a four year period between August 1970 and September 1974, only came to light due to a stroke of luck and diligent investigative work carried out by SFPD Homicide Inspector, Steven Keller. The Inspector is still working on restricted duties following serious injuries sustained during the dramatic rescue of a father and his eighteen month old baby from a house fire in October last year. Whilst it is not yet common knowledge, my sources have told me that Inspector Keller is to receive the Gold Medal of Valour for his heroic actions that night. This is the highest bravery award that can be bestowed upon any police officer. His partner, Lieutenant Michael Stone, is to receive the Bronze Medal of Valour for his part in the same rescue attempt. The medals will be presented by the Mayor of San Francisco and the Chief of Police at an awards ceremony at the end of May.**

Steve threw the paper onto the table in disgust, narrowly missing knocking his cup of coffee over, and addressed his empty kitchen out loud. "What! That's not even supposed to be common knowledge yet till next week. How the hell did that leak out?" He knew Mike would be fuming, and he guessed so would Captain Olsen and his superiors above him. Someone had leaked the information to the press, but Steve had no idea who it could be. He picked up the paper again and continued reading the article to the end. It gave details of each of the five murders, the connections between them and how they had been uncovered. Having finished reading the article, Steve had no appetite for reading the rest of the paper that morning. He folded his newspaper and laid it on the table, tidied his breakfast dishes away and prepared to leave for work.

As he left his apartment he was stopped and congratulated, first by Anderson from the apartment above his, and then by the cab driver who picked him up most mornings and ferried him wherever he needed to go. That's one thing he would definitely miss when he was able to drive himself again...the friendly morning chats with the cab driver... usually Arnie... but it could be any of the others who worked for Status Cabs. He'd built up a good rapport with all of them and, whilst he couldn't say they would exactly be informants in the future, many had said they would keep an ear to the ground for any titbits of information that may come their way from what they heard from the back seats of their cabs. It was another valuable source to add to his "streets" information network.

Arriving at Bryant Street he was hailed and stopped several times in the lobby, in the elevator and along the corridor to the homicide squad office. Was there anyone who didn't know? He almost dreaded pushing the door open. The cacophony of sound that greeted him was enough to awaken the dead, and was reminiscent of his first visit back after his accident, only this time he was far more able to keep his balance and stay on his feet as hands reached out to shake his hand and pat him on the back. He eventually managed to push his way through to his own desk and looked across. Mike's office was ominously empty.

"Congratulations. You kept that quiet, Steve."

"How long have you known, you sly dog?"

"Why didn't you say something? It's no more than you deserve... and Mike."

"Why are we the last to know? If we hadn't seen it in the Chronicle today..." Questions were being fired at him thick and fast and he was trying to answer some and dodge others. Eventually, his fellow officers started to make their way back to their own desks giving him chance to ask the all important question.

"Anyone know where Mike is?"

Dan answered him. "Yeah, he was called to Olsen's office almost as soon as he got in. He's still not back yet."

Steve debated with himself whether to make his own way to the Captain's office or whether to stay put. The latter decision won. If Rudy wanted to see him he'd call. He got on with the work on his desk, then Paul brought someone in for questioning and, as Mike wasn't present, Steve sat in on the interview and took notes for Paul who took the lead. Steve could see what massive strides Paul had made in confidence over the preceding months and didn't interrupt. After the interview was finished Steve and Paul shared a cup of coffee together.

"Thanks for sitting in on that interview for me. It went well but I think I can scrap him as a suspect. I'll check out his alibi but it sounds solid enough. I'll get those notes written up that you took for me and move on."

"Are you sure? I don't mind typing them up for you. It won't take me long and it'll free you up to check him out and bring someone else in," he smiled at Paul's weary face.

"Would you mind? I mean, it's not that I can't read your writing or anything. It's so small and neat. I don't know how you can write that fast and not have it sprawl all over the page. I don't like asking but, without Mike here, he'll want me to crack on and go down this list of people he wants questioned. He came in this morning like a bear with a sore head. That news about the medals wasn't supposed to be made public yet was it?"

"Er... no it wasn't, but there's not a lot anyone can do about it now. Mike and I were told a few weeks ago, but the whole list of awards wasn't due to be announced till next week in the SFPD annual report. We didn't tell anyone... not even Jeannie. There was obviously a leak from somewhere but, who knows, it could have come from anywhere."

"Well none of us here knew that's for sure. It was a wonderful surprise this morning. You deserve it, Steve, you really do. What you've gone through these past months just... well... it staggers me, it really does. To be injured that badly and then insist on returning to work, and then to take on the position at the academy too... well... I couldn't have done it. I think I would have taken my sick pay and disappeared off somewhere warm and sunny till I was fit to return again. I'm afraid I don't have the same dedication to the job that you have."

"I think you've just said it all in a nutshell, Paul." Steve looked up from stirring his coffee. "May I speak frankly?"

"Yes, of course. I've come to value your opinion."

"Well, it seems to me that working as a police officer, for you, is probably just a job. You come in every day, you put in your hours and then you go home again. You do your work well, but you don't love it do you? It's just that... a job. If you had to give it up tomorrow I don't think it would really bother you. For me, it's different. It's my life. I love police work. I love working in homicide with a passion... and it would near kill me to have to give it up. These past few months I think I've nearly driven Mike nuts with my mood swings and my fears and worries for my future here. I feel I have to get my place back with Mike or everything else will be meaningless. But you're not like me. I've seen you change a great deal here in the last few months. You're more confident, more able to push yourself and your own ideas forward, and you're not so reliant on Mike to do all the thinking, but... there's always something missing with you. It's a kind of reticence... a reserve... like you're not really interested in taking part... like you really don't want to be here. You work hard but you never totally give one hundred percent. It's as if you're always holding something of yourself back. I'm sorry if I'm being too blunt, and I apologise if you think I'm wrong... but I don't think I am?" Steve had watched Paul's shoulders noticeably droop and a frown crease his brow as he spoke.

"Your uncanny knack for reading people has hit it spot on. You're absolutely right, Steve, I don't want to be here. I loved being in black and whites patrolling the streets every day. Then I took my Sergeant's exams and got more responsibility and I was fine with that, but then I got promoted into robbery and it went downhill from there. I thought it would be a good move upwards in my career, but I never really settled there. Then the powers that be sent me to homicide. Here I was... me... partner to the great Mike Stone... albeit temporarily... and I just felt like a fish out of water gasping for breath. Then you came back to work and... well... you've helped me enormously and I'm better able to cope, but the comparison between us is obvious to everyone... especially Mike."

"It should never be about comparisons, Paul. We're two entirely different people and no two people work the same way. It's about knowing your own strengths and giving the best of yourself and those strengths every day."

"I know, but I find it so hard to be myself here. I don't want to stay in homicide when you return full-time even if they ask me... which I doubt very much that they will. I guess they'll move me back to robbery but it's still not what I want."

Steve felt himself wince but ignored the term 'when you return full-time' and let it pass without comment. "So what do you want? If you don't want homicide and you don't want robbery, what floats your boat, Paul? Tell me. It helps to talk it over, you know." He smiled at Paul and gently and briefly touched his arm to coax an admission out of him. "Tell me."

"What I really want is to go back to black and whites. I was happiest there. There's a buzz every day not knowing what you're going to come across, but once you deal with the immediate scene, whatever it may be, you can then pass it on to someone else to investigate, and off you go again back patrolling the streets. It's not the initial involvement I don't like, Steve, it's all the follow-up and investigation afterwards that goes with serious crimes like robbery and homicide. I just prefer to be in at ground-level dealing with the drunks and the DUIs and the RTAs. That's the level at which I'm happiest. I don't have the same drive for advancement as you do."

"Then ask for a transfer back to black and whites. What's stopping you?"

"The thought of people thinking I'm a failure. That I couldn't cut it in plain clothes. That I'm only good enough for uniform. I suppose I'm worried what people will think." He spoke wearily and with his head down looking into the bottom of his empty coffee cup.

"What does it matter what people think? It's your life, your happiness and job satisfaction that counts. There's no shame in preferring black and whites. Ask for a transfer back. It's still SFPD. It's not like you're leaving... just moving back to something you enjoy more and, quite frankly, probably will do a whole lot better. You're a good officer, and those above you obviously saw potential in you otherwise they wouldn't have pushed you up the ladder. There's no shame in not being comfortable at this height and wanting to go back a couple of rungs. You're still a sergeant. Go back to the streets and show them you can do a good job and do it well! Take it from me, if you want to remain in the department as a career, then you have to be happy in what you do... and robbery and homicide doesn't cut it for you, anyone can see that. Go home tonight and think about it, Paul. You're an excellent officer, but you're like a square peg in a round hole at the moment. This isn't your niche here... but you know where it is, so go after it." He could see Paul thinking over what he had just said and hoped he hadn't overstepped the line and offended him.

"You're so right. I don't fit here, so I'll give it a lot of thought. You talk a lot of sense, even if you do use a load of similes. No wonder they wanted you at the academy."

"I had a good teacher, Paul... and here he comes now!" There was movement across the room that caught Steve's eye and he looked up and saw Mike come in through the door and walk across the bull pen.

"We'd better get a move on. Think about what I said and, if you want to talk some more, you know where I am."

"Steve, my office please." Mike held the door open after he entered and, with a last quick raise of the eyebrows to Paul, Steve followed Mike in but remained standing .

"I saw it in the Chronicle. Is there trouble?" Steve asked.

"Yes... no... well there was... but it'll settle down. There was a leak from somewhere, but I was able to reassure them it wasn't me or you, but it's done now. Commander Hooey was there, and he was not pleased at having his plans scotched. It just means this year's publication of the awards in the department annual report has been pre-empted a little. I just wanted to tell you something before you hear it or see it for yourself." He glanced away from Steve and looked down momentarily at his hands lying palms down on his desk, then returned his gaze back to Steve.

"You look serious. What is it Mike? Have they changed their minds or something?" Steve asked cautiously.

"No, it's not that. It's something Commander Hooey told me. There are only two other recipients of the Gold Medal... and both are being awarded posthumously." A softened version of the often seen blue-eyed glare washed over Steve and penetrated through to his very soul. His heart fluttered and he sat down heavily on the chair opposite Mike's desk as Mike continued. "I was worried how you would feel about that. It shook me so... well... I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"Oh my!" Steve was visibly moved and took a while to gather his thoughts. "It makes you think doesn't it, Mike? I came that close, didn't I? That could so easily have been me. I was so lucky to survive that night, and sometimes I've lost sight of that and let my fears and worries about getting my job back get to me, when I should just be grateful I still have a life to live at all," he said thoughtfully.

"Well, that's how I feel too, Buddy Boy. We... both of us... have sometimes lost sight of the bigger picture. Life is so precious, and, thank God, you still have yours to live, whilst those two officers... and their families... well... their lives were just gone in an instant and their families' lives changed forever. Hearing news like that puts it all into perspective doesn't it?"

"It sure does. It makes me feel kind of humble and... well... embarrassed... that I survived, and they didn't. Their sacrifice was so much greater than mine."

Both were quiet with their thoughts for another moment or two till Mike broke the silence.

"I just didn't want you to find out on the day of the ceremony. It'll be emotional enough."

"Thanks, Mike. I appreciate it." Steve stood and headed for the door as Mike spoke again.

"Well, let's crack on. I think Paul's waiting for me to do an interview with him. He'll think I've forgotten."

Steve turned back briefly. "It's okay, Mike. I sat in with him. Paul did the interview and I took the notes. Ramirez is not the man you're looking for. He has an alibi which sounds solid, and Paul's checking it out. I'll get the notes typed up and bring them in to you."

"Thanks, Steve. Was he okay with me not being there?"

"Yes, he was fine." Steve got up and went back to his own desk. He felt it best to keep his own counsel. If Paul wanted Mike to know what they'd just discussed, it was Paul's place to tell him not his.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Work continued as usual for the next few weeks until Steve's next appointment with Dr Truman. He'd had his usual pre-appointment X ray two days before, and Dr Truman's secretary had telephoned him yesterday afternoon to say he was being booked to attend the fracture clinic at 8.30 am the next day rather than Dr Truman's personal office. He was also to have nil by mouth from midnight and to be prepared to stay there for a couple of hours. Finally, that must mean the frame was coming off. Mike spoke to him as he prepared to go home from Bryant Street.

"Do you want me to come with you tomorrow, Steve... you know...just for moral support."

"I'm not sure, Mike. It's the biggie! Decision day for the frame, and it sounds like it's coming off." He was alternately apprehensive and excited at the thought. "Would you mind driving me there and waiting? I'm not sure how I'll be when I leave."

"Sure, I will. It's no problem. I'll sort it with Roy later. I'll pick you up at quarter to eight just in case the traffic is bad on the way. It's probably useless to say this, but try and get a good night's sleep, Steve."

"I will. See you in the morning." Mike watched as Steve limped heavily out of the bullpen.

When Steve descended the steps from his apartment the following morning, he was wearing a pale blue shirt, navy tie and navy jacket with his sweat pants, and he was carrying a brown paper bag. He opened the door and put the bag carefully on the bench seat between him and Mike and climbed in.

"Morning, Buddy Boy. What's in the bag?" Mike asked as he pulled the car away from the curb.

"Morning, Mike. This? It's a pair of grey tailored pants and a smart pair of black shoes. I can't wait to get out of these sweat pants... the trainers too. When I get home I'm going to parcel up all the pants and pyjamas that I've been wearing for the last six months and burn the lot of them. I never want to see another pair of sweats as long as I live!" he laughed.

"I can't say I blame you. I know I joke about your fancy clothes but, I have to say, I'm quite looking forward to seeing you back to your normal self and looking ultra smart again. I've quite missed it," he smiled and glanced briefly across. "Are you okay? Not too anxious?"

"I'm anxious, yes, but I'm more excited than anything. It's been a long time coming." Mike pulled the green sedan into the hospital parking lot and found a space to park. The two of them followed the signs for the fracture clinic along the corridors of the first floor, pushed the double doors open and approached the receptionist at the desk.

"Steven Keller. I have an appointment with Dr Truman."

"Oh yes, Mr Keller, just take a seat." Steve looked across at Mike as they sat down. "It seems strange to be called Mister after all this time."

They only sat for a few minutes when a nurse in blue scrubs approached them. "Inspector Keller? Would you like to come with me please and we'll get you settled. If you wish, your friend can come with you and stay till Dr Truman is ready for you." As she bustled along the corridor Steve and Mike hurried to keep up with her. She stopped at a side-room. "Here we are. If you'd like to go behind the screen and strip down to your shorts please and put the gown on, then get yourself on the gurney and someone will fetch you before long." She turned and addressed Mike. "You can remain here till the Inspector returns," she said, then she left as quickly as she'd entered.

Steve did as he was told and emerged a few minutes later in the white gown. The gurney was quite high and Mike took his elbow to steady him as he climbed on and lay down with the back raised. "This is it then, Mike. What we've been waiting for."

"You'll be fine. I'll be right here till they bring you back. I wonder how long it will take."

"No idea. Not long I hope. I'm getting really hungry. I've got used to a leisurely start and eating breakfast every day." Steve rubbed his stomach and laughed nervously.

"Ha Ha! That'll soon come to an end when I have you back full-time," Mike grinned.

"You know what I'm really looking forward to now the frame's coming off?" he asked Mike.

"Oh, I don't know, Steve. There must be so many things you've missed this last six months it would be hard for me to hazard a guess but, if you're pressing me, I'd say getting back in your Porsche and taking it for a spin on the open road... oh, and coming back to work with me of course. I don't know which you would put top of the list... but I'd hope it would be me," he chuckled.

"You know me too well. Oh, go on then, I'll put you top of the list, but driving the Porsche comes a very close second. I hope it starts after all this time in Dan's garage. It'll certainly need a service and a complete check over. It'll need a good wax and polish too. That'll be something I can get sorted soon." Steve said with excited anticipation.

Mike counselled caution. "Not too soon, though. It'll probably be a while before Dr Truman gives you permission to drive again."

"You're probably right, but I aim to push for full fitness as soon as possible. I've sat on my butt on the side-lines for far too long."

They chatted for a few more minutes, then two orderlies came to push the gurney out of the room.

"Bye for now. Good luck," Mike called as Steve disappeared from sight. He opened the newspaper he'd brought with him and took his glasses out of his pocket and settled to read, but the words were clouded by moisture and danced across the paper.

Steve was wheeled into a large room not unlike an operating theatre. The two orderlies helped him to slide across from the gurney onto a covered table. A voice suddenly spoke behind him and Dr Truman came into view.

"Good morning Steve. How are you today? All ready for this are you?" Dr Truman was gowned but not masked and Steve could see he was smiling.

"You bet I am. I've waited a long time for this. I take it the X ray showed everything was okay then, since I'm here like this?"

"Yes, everything has knitted together well. Now, let me explain. Sometimes we're able to remove the frame without any need for anaesthesia but..."

"What? Aren't you going to put me out?" Steve said nervously.

"You're always so impatient, aren't you? You never give me a chance to finish a sentence, do you? That's one of your very bad faults, Steve, and it's most annoying."

"I'm sorry. I'll shut up and behave, and I promise I won't interrupt again," Steve said contritely feeling like he'd been chastised like a naughty child.

"Hmm! That'll be a first! I was going to say, in your case, because of the type of frame I had to use, some of the rods are much thicker than usual, so Dr Ramona here is going to give you some light anaesthesia to keep you comfortably under till I'm finished. Happy with that?" Another man had moved to stand nearer to Steve's head.

"Yes thanks, very! Dr Ramona? Weren't you the doctor I saw in the ICU when I first came round from my op?"

"Yes I was. Fancy that! You were pretty well out of it then, so I'm amazed you remembered me."

"Remembering faces is part of my job."

"Just rest back easy. I'm just going to put a cannula into your hand, then I'll give you something to send you off into dreamland." The last thing he remembered was counting backwards from ten. He got to seven as his voice faltered and he drifted off. Within seconds Steve was asleep, and his neck was stretched back a little and a mask placed over his face.

There was a bright light above him and it was hurting his eyes as he tried to open them. He swallowed. His mouth was very dry, and his tongue felt overly large for his mouth. He could hear a voice speaking to him. "Steve, open your eyes for me there's a good man. It's all over and you're doing fine."

He recognised Dr Ramona's voice and tried to lick his dry lips. "Is it all done? Is the frame off?"

"Yes, it is. All done. Nurse here will get you a moist sponge to suck on and then we'll wheel you back to the lieutenant." Steve had already been transferred onto a gurney and within a few minutes he was taken by the orderlies the short distance back to the room where Mike was patiently waiting for him. He had surfaced from the anaesthesia a little more but was still sleepy and a little groggy.

"Here he is, Lieutenant," said one of the orderlies. "All safe and sound. You can stop worrying. I'm going to leave him here with you and nurse says I can fetch him a hot drink. What would you like? Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please, white, no sugar."

"Would you like one too, Lieutenant? He'll be here for a little while yet."

"Oh that's very kind of you. I'll have a coffee please, white, one sugar." The orderlies left the room and Steve felt Mike's hand on his arm.

"How did it go, Buddy Boy? Did it hurt much?"

"No, I didn't feel a thing. They put me under to do it, thank goodness."

"And you're okay? Not feeling sick or anything?" Mike said worriedly.

"I'm fine, Mike. Maybe a little groggy and a bit uncomfortable, but I'm okay." He picked his head up and looked down at the white sheet lying flat over his legs. "Hey! It's gone. I'm free at last."

Shortly after the orderly returned with their drinks, and they were just enjoying them with a cookie, when Dr Truman entered the room. He had removed his blue scrubs and was back in a suit. Mike couldn't help but notice the tie-pin in place on his tie. That was a nice touch. Maybe Dr Truman wasn't so bad after all.

"Well, that went very well, Steve, and there were no problems at all. It'll be a bit sore and uncomfortable for a few days, so you may need to take some painkillers. You can go back to normal bathing for the leg and there's no need for pin site care anymore. The holes will close up in a couple of days. Now, it'll take a few weeks for the muscles and surrounding tissues to get back to normal, and you'll need to wear a strap-on brace during the day for extra support. The nurse will show you how to fit it on. You'll also need to use a crutch or a stick for a while longer, whichever you feel most comfortable with, and I want you to have some physical therapy with Rick Garcia to build up those muscles again, so arrange that with him. I'll see you again in four weeks. Stay here for another hour till the anaesthetic wears off, and then you can go home. Now, is there anything else before I leave you?"

"There is actually. At the risk of annoying you by pushing for something too soon again, can I just ask something? How long will it be before I can drive again."

"I knew your patience was too good to be true! What do you drive?"

"At work an LTD but, personally, a Porsche 911... manual transmission."

"WHAT! Good grief, you must be earning more than me!" Dr Truman almost exploded with shock.

"It's not as good as it sounds. It's nearly ten years old and I got it second hand," Steve replied a little sheepishly.

Mike piped up, "It's his pride and joy, Dr Truman. He thinks more of the car than he does of me!"

"Well, if he's got a Porsche 911 I can't say I blame him! You've quite taken the wind out of my sails, young man. Well, had it been an automatic I'd have said anytime now, but as it's a manual I have to say you'll need to wait till Rick is happy with you and I pass you fit to return to normal duties at work."

"That's fair enough I suppose. I guess I knew I was getting too hasty." Steve sounded a little disappointed but resigned.

"You know what I told you at the start. "Patience and..."

"Perseverance... yes I know. Sorry."

"Seriously, Steve, it's just a little longer now. You're almost there. The finishing post is in your sights. You've done incredibly well and I'm really pleased with you." Dr Truman spoke with surprising warmth.

"Thank you, Dr Truman, and I really appreciate all you've done for me," Steve held his hand out and Dr Truman shook it.

"You're very welcome. The two Ps finally paid off didn't they? By the way, I believe congratulations are in order? I read about the award in the Chronicle along with the write-up about the Hennessey case. It seems you've been very busy since I last saw you. Well done, you deserve it. Now, take it easy and just rest here before leaving. Bye for now." He turned to Mike and shook hands with him and left.

"I take my hat off to that man," Mike said with a huge grin on his face. "He's done a good job with you. I think I may even be growing to like him." He began to chuckle quietly and Steve joined in. "Hey, do you fancy going bowling again tonight? I need my revenge after the last time when you hardly moved your feet and still beat me."

"Mike, are you insane? I only just got the frame off!"

"Just joking, Buddy Boy, just joking! I know you need some time to recover. How about tomorrow night?" And his face crinkled into the broad smile that Steve loved, and they both burst out laughing.

Steve drank his tea and rested for a while longer. He was shown how to put the brace on and then he changed back into his own clothes and emerged looking smart and feeling human again for the first time in six months.

"Come on Mike. Let's go home." As he passed a bin in the corridor he pushed the bag containing his sweat pants and scuffed trainers into it and walked on without a second glance.

For the next few weeks Steve still worked at the academy and in the office, but took some time off from his job at Bryant Street to attend the regular physical therapy sessions twice a week at the hospital with Rick and, occasionally, Tom. The brace provided him with good support and the exercises were gradually returning his leg to full strength. When he wasn't at the hospital or at work, he took long walks up and down the steep city streets to push himself and build up his strength, and he swam regularly early every morning. After a couple of weeks, he no longer felt the need of a stick to support him, and within a month Rick signed him off.

"There's very little more I can do now to help you Steve. You've made fantastic progress here with me, and those daily swimming sessions are really helping to build that muscle strength back up. Keep the brace but just use it now for extra support when you feel tired. Keep on as you are doing, and I see no reason why you can't return to normal duties as soon as Dr Truman and the police medics sign you off."

"Thanks, Rick. You've been amazing. I can't thank you enough. I hardly dared ever to believe this day would come. How about a catch-up soon with Tom and Mike? We'll catch another 49ers game. My treat."

"That'd be great, Steve, but there's no need to pay for us. Just give me a call where and when and we'll arrange it." He shook hands with Steve and then watched as he confidently walked out of the PT room with just a slight limp to show for the immense ordeal he'd been through.

At the end of the week Steve drove himself in his beloved Porsche to the academy. Pulling into the parking lot and parking his highly waxed and polished car, certainly provided a talking point for the cadets who were milling around in the lunch-time break. He was here early, before his afternoon session, for a meeting in Captain Lyle's office. Lieutenant Jack Sage was also present. Steve had asked to see them both to tell them he was returning to active duty shortly, having been certified fit to return to normal duties by Dr Truman. Lenny Murchison had also passed him as fit though, as Steve had never told the Captain he was seeing Lenny for PTSD, he didn't see the need to mention that fact now.

"Our loss is homicide's gain, Steve," the Captain said ruefully. "Are you sure we can't tempt you to stay on here at the academy? Your work here with us has been exemplary, and I really do not want to lose you. On the other hand, I always knew it would only be temporary, and I'm so glad you've had the all clear to return to normal duties. I know it's what you want more than anything."

"It is, Captain. I've thoroughly enjoyed it here, but my heart is, and always has been, back in homicide. My doctor at the hospital has declared me fit, and the department medical officer has put me through rigorous examinations and fitness tests and declared me fit to return to normal duties too. I've also kept myself well practised on the firing range so I'm all clear to return. This semester here is due to end in two weeks and Captain Olsen is happy to let me stay on here till the end of the semester... that's if you wish me to. I'd like to see the present advanced cadets through to graduation. I've been with them almost from the start of their training. They're a great bunch and will be an asset to the department."

"You're right, they are. In fact, they all are. You've had a tremendous impact on them. You've helped enormously with our pilot scheme, and, yes, we'd very much like you to stay till the end of the semester. I'm not sure where we go from here. As you know, the original concept was to employ officers who were long term, temporarily disabled as you have been, but it's going to be hard to find another officer with your dedication to take your place. It's not just the teaching side you've helped the cadets with, but the counselling side too. Many of them have told us that just talking to you about their problems has been invaluable. Your shoes here are going to be very hard to fill, and it's going to take a great deal of thought on our part before we make any definite decisions. I'd welcome any thoughts you'd like to give us on this, Steve?"

"I've given this a lot of thought, Captain, and clearly the problem is two-fold as was established in the beginning. Firstly, what the cadets need more than anything is simply a mentor or friend. Someone who isn't seen as part of the fixed establishment and who can just give a listening ear and maybe help them find a solution to their problems. Regarding using other officers... I totally understand what you're getting at. I've been lucky and I just seem to have connected with the cadets on their level. Maybe it's an age thing, I don't know, but I'm afraid you may not find the particular qualities you're looking for in every injured police officer. I mean... just because an officer has been injured doesn't necessarily mean they'll have a good listening ear. I'd like to suggest that you could maybe employ a dedicated personal tutor to help the cadets on that score, possibly on a part-time sessional basis as I've been doing. Maybe someone with training in psychology and counselling would be best... if you have the funds."

Captain Lyle looked thoughtful. "Hmm! That sounds sensible. We can certainly look into that."

Steve continued. "Secondly, some of the cadets struggle with certain aspects of the course work. It's an intensive course and they have so much to learn in such a short space of time before they graduate and go out on placement. Maybe one particular trainer could hold an off the record, informal session with each intake just once a week to iron out any problems they're having with the course work. Maybe use the suggestion boxes I've found so helpful. A lot of what I've done with them is just chat and clarify to be honest, plus I've smoothed and calmed a lot of furrowed brows. Any trainer could do that for them outside normal course work. What do you think, Captain?"

"I think you've given myself and Jack here a lot to think about. It all sounds very sensible and feasible. You're going to be here with us for another two weeks, so we'll get our thinking caps on and toss some ideas around. We can always discuss it with you further before you leave. Thank you, Steve, you've been most helpful. I hope you've taken something away from this experience yourself too?"

"Surprisingly, yes. I was very sceptical at first, but it's actually been a wonderful experience. Of course, I'd rather not have been injured... but I was, and I can't think of anything better that I could have done whilst I've been laid up. It's got me through the last six months, and it's also made me feel useful and that I've been contributing in a small way to the learning and well-being of the cadets, so I have to thank you for giving me the opportunity to help you."

"You're very welcome. Is teaching at the academy something you would ever think of in the future, Steve?"

"Maybe... I'm not sure. I've had an awful lot of time to think and, to be honest, if anything catastrophic did happen to end my career in the department, I think I would probably either go back to Berkeley and finish my law degree, or maybe even apply for a teaching post there and use my criminology degree and my experience gained in the department. Who knows what the future holds, Captain. I hope I never have to make that decision."

"I think I can speak for Jack here too when I say we hope your career with the department will be a long and healthy one, and that you are never injured so badly again that you are forced to make that decision, Steve."

"Amen to that, Captain."


	49. Chapter 49

A/N: I want to thank you all for coming along with Steve and Mike on this very long journey that I've taken them on. I hope you've enjoyed reading of their experiences as much as I've enjoyed writing about them. Thank you so much for all your support and wonderful reviews, including all the lovely "guest reviews" that I've received and cannot personally reply to. They've all been very much appreciated. So many of you have asked about a second story. I never really appreciated just how much effort goes into producing these stories until I wrote this one, and I have to say that, at the moment, I don't have a second one in the pipeline. I began this story on New Year's Day in the dark and dismal days of winter, and I've still been tweaking it a little before posting even now six months on. Some people have asked if I've ever written in any way before, and I can honestly say I've never written like this since essays at school. It really has been a labour of love and, if nothing else, I've proved to myself that I could do it. I said to my friends I will either be a "one story wonder" or a "one story flop". From the number and quality of the reviews I've received, I'm really heartened by the response from you all. All I will say is this: If you're expecting a second story you'll all need a great deal of patience, and I'll need the perseverance to write it... with capital Ps. Thank you all once again.

Epilogue

Mike picked up the clothes brush and used it to brush a few specks from the shoulders of Steve's dress uniform as he stood in the centre of Mike's living room. Mike stood back and made one final check over him.

"You'll do. You look very smart. I'm a very proud man today, Steve, and I couldn't be more proud of you if you were my own flesh and blood. The past seven or eight months have been a veritable marathon ranging from pain and anxiety to success and full fitness, and the way you've handled yourself through it all just makes me burst with pride."

"Even the mood swings, the moments of despair and all the tears and fears?" Steve's frown was evident beneath his smile.

"Even those, Buddy Boy. You wouldn't have been human without them."

Steve sighed. "I'm well aware that I'm not the only one who's been to hell and back, Mike. You've been through it too. You've been with me every step of the way, and I don't know how I would ever have got through it without you. I owe you so much."

"You owe me nothing, Buddy Boy. You mean the world to me, and I was there for you because I love you and because I wanted to be. There's no need for thanks. If anything, it's all of us who owe you thanks."

"You all owe me thanks? How do you work that out, Mike?"

"Well, when all this happened nearly eight months ago, I prayed to God and asked Him to give you the strength to get you through this ordeal, and he heard my prayers. I often think back to something you told me June Holloway said to you. She said... 'Sometimes life throws us a curve ball for a reason'. She implied the reason would become apparent with time, and it's perfectly true. It was a terrible thing to happen but you've come out of it a stronger and wiser person because of it. You've been put through eight gruelling months, but look what you've achieved in that time and how many lives you've changed for the better. You saved the lives of Mr Sanchez and his beautiful daughter. You were instrumental in catching a serial killer and taking him off the streets for life. You gave Martin Nixon his freedom back, and helped him find his way back into work and self respect again. You helped Paul Kingdom find his feet in the squad, and counselled him with all his hang-ups about the job, and now he's happily on his way back to black and whites. Oh, yes, he's confided in me about your long and helpful chats. You've helped the guys in the bullpen, and achieved enormous success with your work at the academy, and there are scores and scores of cadets there who've benefited from your experience, knowledge and advice. Remember we saw your ex-cadet friend Andy the other day at that mugging we stopped to help at? He was coping with the job really well and loving life in the ambulance service. That was all down to you."

Steve put his hand up. "No more, Mike, please. You're embarrassing me."

"I haven't finished yet, Buddy Boy! What about Dr Truman? Look how you've helped him."

"Dr Truman? What do you mean? He's the one who's helped me, not the other way round."

"I beg to differ." Mike tapped his index finger to his right temple. "It may seem like that, but you taught him how to be more human. Now don't look at me like that! Look what an arrogant, pompous ass he was when we first met him, and look at him now! He's a brilliant man I grant you, but it's you that's helped change him into being a half-way human, and slightly less, arrogant and pompous ass. I told you, I'm even beginning to like him." Mike's grin spread almost from ear to ear, and Steve couldn't help the laugh that built inside him at Mike's words.

"You have to hand it to him though, Mike," he chuckled. "He was right... about me needing patience and perseverance... with a capital P," he smiled at the memory of their clashes.

"Yes, he was, and that's something else you've learnt too, Steve. And me! Look how I've had to learn patience and perseverance with Paul. Many's the time I wanted to boot him back where he came from but... he and I came good in the end... well... almost." He raised his eyes to the ceiling and grinned.

"You were right, Mike, when you said... 'no experience is ever a wasted experience'. I've learnt such a lot about myself and my ability to face adversity, and I think I've come out the other side a better and stronger person. I've also learnt that teaching isn't so bad... though don't quote me on that."

"That was another thing you were adamant about. 'I'm no teacher', you said many times in a huff, but I think you've disproved that one. You've proved yourself an excellent teacher, and one who is very much liked and respected."

"I guess you're right. I can't deny I did quite enjoy it. I'm certainly not in any rush to make a career change, but I told you I'd park it at the back of my brain for future reference should the need ever arise."

"Let's just hope it never does. I don't even want to think about it. I nearly lost you in more ways than one, but now I've got you back at my side, hale and hearty again. Our time on this earth is the most precious thing we have, and it can be taken away so easily in a split second. It's a hard lesson to learn." Mike's bright blue eyes pierced the green ones of his young partner as they looked deeply at each other. Mike lifted his hand and cupped the back of Steve's neck in the loving gesture that was so familiar, and the eyes of both men grew moist.

Jeannie stood at the doorway to the kitchen where she had been watching and listening to the two most precious men in her life. "I hate to break into this fascinating tête-a-tête, but we need to be leaving. You're the guest of honour, Steve, and it wouldn't do to be late."

"She's right. Come on, Steve. Put your best foot forward," Mike said with a gentle prod to Steve's shoulder.

"Which one's that... the left or the right? You can take your pick now!" Steve retorted.

"Oh, that's bad, Steve... that's very bad!" Mike's huge grin spread across his face as he gently pushed Steve ahead of him.

As the three of them made their way to the door Steve suddenly stopped. "By the way, I wanted to give you a small gift to thank you for all you've done for me over the past months."

"Steve, there was no need for a gift. You shouldn't have..."

Steve cut Mike short. "There was every need, Mike. It's outside. The cab driver that brought me helped me carry it up." Steve opened the front door, bowed and spread his arm out in a flourish. "For you, Mike, with my grateful thanks." Mike stepped outside his door and looked to his left. At the top of the stairs stood a beautiful viburnum bush in a terracotta pot.

"I vaguely remember someone once told me it'll have a beautiful display of pretty pink flowers. I'm reliably informed by the plantsman I bought it from, that this variety flowers in the fall... around the beginning of October. I was going to suggest planting it under your bedroom window, if it wasn't for the steps being in the way. I thought if you ever needed a quick exit you'd have something soft to land on." He was going to laugh and then he saw the tears welling up in Mike's eyes.

"Oh, Buddy Boy. You couldn't have given me anything better. When we get back you can help me choose a suitable place to plant it... maybe near to Helen's rose bush." Mike said as he tried to swallow a ball of emotion that got lodged somewhere between his throat and his heart.

Steve reached into his pocket and brought out a clean white handkerchief which he handed to Mike. "Here, I brought a spare."

"Will you two quit the loving emotion and get a move on, or do you want to be late?" Jeannie said impatiently.

Steve touched his dearest friend's arm. "Come on, Mike. We have an appointment to keep." He put his uniform cap on his head and Mike followed suit.

Steve descended the stairs just ahead of Mike to the waiting cab below. As he reached the sidewalk and walked the few steps round to the other side of the cab, Mike's eyes followed him and noted the almost imperceptible limp that he knew his young partner would likely carry for the rest of his days.

The awards ceremony was to be held in the auditorium of the Scottish Rites Masonic Centre. It would be attended by SFPD Command Staff and members of the San Francisco Police Commission, and the awards would be presented by the Mayor of San Francisco alongside the Chief of Police. The auditorium had seating for seven hundred and sixty people and, as Steve along with Mike and Jeannie, entered at the rear and made their way down the sloping central aisle towards the stage, Steve looked around him at the stunning decor of the building. It really was magnificent.

As he looked across the rows towards the rear of the auditorium, it was to see a group of people he recognised well. Present were Dr Cranmer and Dr Truman accompanied by Nurses June Holloway, Moira Lowe and Liz Kendrick. With them sat Rick Garcia and Tom Webster, and even Walt Baker. Present also were Andres Sanchez and his wife Teresa. Further down the auditorium, in seats reserved for police officers and other SFPD staff, he noticed Captain Rudy Olsen and Lieutenant Roy Devitt, sitting with Captain Jonas Lyle and Lieutenant Jack Sage. Dr Lenny Murchison was seated in the row in front. He was humbled to see so many people who had played such an enormous part in his recovery, attending the ceremony.

As the only living recipient of the Gold Medal of Valour Steve had a seat just off centre in the front row. He had been invited to bring two members of his family to sit in the front row with him and, naturally, the family he had alongside him were Mike and Jeannie, both seated to his left. As Mike was a recipient of the Bronze Medal of Valour he should have been seated with the other recipients in the second row back but, because of his family link to Steve, he was seated at Steve's side. As they waited for the ceremony to begin they chatted quietly together.

"Are you ready for this Steve?" Mike asked as he looked at his young partner sitting nervously beside him and pressed his arm. The look of immense pride and love that emanated from Mike enveloped Steve in a warm glow. Just knowing Mike was alongside him was all he needed to help settle his nerves.

"Yes, Mike. I'm ready. Did you see who was here as we made our way down? I never expected all of them to attend. I feel very touched that they're here."

"Yes I did. They all played an enormous part in your recovery, and they're here to honour you just like everyone else. It's only what you deserve." Mike replied with pride.

"You know, Mike, sitting here in this amazing place, I feel like this is a culmination of everything I've gone through in the last few months. I never expected this award for one moment, but it's like it's finally allowing me closure on a very difficult period. Strangely, I do feel it has enriched my life. Yes, I've suffered deep pain and many indignities in hospital," he said and winced as he spoke, "but I've also experienced and gained so much that wouldn't have come my way if I hadn't been injured. I want to put it all behind me now and to move on from it. I'll always have the medal in a box, in a drawer, and I can take it out now and again to remind me of how much I've had to rely on the help of others to get me through... you and Jeannie in particular." He reached across and took hold of both Mike and Jeannie's hands. "I couldn't wish for better friends... or family. I'm truly blessed to have you both in my life."

The auditorium suddenly quietened as the lights dimmed slightly and a spotlight lit up the stage. The Mayor of San Francisco and the Chief of Police entered from the wings and took their places centre stage. The opening speeches were made and then Steve sat nervously whilst the wives of the two police officers who had been awarded the Gold Medal of Valour posthumously, heard their husbands' citations read out, and then stepped up to receive the Medal of Valour on behalf of their lost loved ones. Applause for them was heartfelt and respectful.

Then the time came for Steve's medal to be presented. The Mayor read out the citation:

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you have heard, the Gold Medal of Valour is an award for individual acts of extraordinary bravery or heroism performed in the line of duty at extreme, life-threatening personal risk. It recognises officers whose actions could be considered as having gone above and beyond the call of duty, or recognises an officer who has performed an act of bravery displaying an extreme amount of courage whilst knowingly facing imminent risk of injury or death to his or her self as a consequence. This next recipient of this year's award goes to Inspector Steven Keller of the Homicide Division for action undertaken on the night of October 7th 1974. Although knowing extreme risk to his own life existed, he attempted and accomplished the rescue of Mr Andres Sanchez and his infant daughter, Rosa, from a house fire. After first rescuing Mr Sanchez with his superior officer and partner Lieutenant Michael Stone, and despite being requested to abort the rescue of baby Rosa for fear of his own life, Inspector Keller continued upwards within the burning building to the third floor, where he located the infant in her cot close to death. Faced with the knowledge that his escape route had been cut off by the flames, he then made the agonising but, thankfully correct, decision to drop her from the third floor window to waiting firemen below. With his own escape route now cut off by the fire, Inspector Keller attempted to avoid the flames for as long as possible by climbing out of the window and holding on as best he could while waiting for a ladder to be put in position. Unfortunately, a massive explosion from inside the house caused him to fall from the window, and he received severe and disabling injuries from which he has undergone a very long and painful recovery. I'm pleased to say he has now returned to active duty. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our next recipient of the Gold Medal of Valour, Inspector Steven Keller.

To a cacophonous round of applause that resounded around the auditorium, Steve rose to his feet and made his way across in front of the stage to the side and mounted the steps onto the stage. He was first greeted by a handshake from the Mayor, who then presented the medal pinning it just above the left breast pocket of Steve's dress uniform. "Very well done, Inspector. The police department is very fortunate to have an officer like you on it's staff."

"Thank you, sir." Steve replied as his hand was shaken again, and then he walked the few steps to the Chief of Police who was also waiting to shake his hand.

"It's gives me very great pleasure to see you receive this award, Inspector. It was very bravely and deservedly earned and our city is honoured to have a police officer of your exceptional talents and fortitude serving in our police department. Very well done."

"Thank you, sir. I'm also very honoured to receive it, and to have been able to resume my position as a member of the department." Steve replied shakily but proudly. To thunderous applause he made his way across the stage, and back to his seat where Mike was unashamedly wiping his eyes with his white handkerchief.

The rest of the ceremony continued to the end and Steve applauded loudly and proudly alongside a tearful Jeannie as Mike heard his citation read out and went up to receive his Bronze Medal of Valour. After all the awards had been presented, the ceremony ended and everyone gathered in the elaborate Banqueting Hall to enjoy drinks and a light buffet, and Steve was able to personally thank Dr Truman and the rest of the hospital staff for attending. Andres and Teresa Sanchez stayed for a short while, but then left to go home to their two children waiting in the safety of their new home with their grandparents watching over them.

Eventually, it was time to make their weary way home again. One by one the others left until just Steve, Mike and Jeannie were left waiting for the cab that was to take them home. As it pulled up Steve was touched to see Andres Sanchez himself sitting in the driver's seat.

"Andres, how good of you to collect us and see us safely home. Thank you." Steve said to the smiling man who exited the cab and held the door open for Steve to get in and sit alongside him, with Mike and Jeannie together in the back.

"The pleasure is all mine, Inspector. Without you my family would have been torn apart eight months ago. I owe you a debt I can never repay," Andres said humbly.

"There was never any debt to repay Andres, and, if you ever thought there was, after all the help you and your cab company have given me over the past few months, I would say any assumed debt has been fully repaid. Thank you."

As Steve was about to get in the cab, he looked across the roof to Mike as he was about to enter the rear door. "There's something I keep meaning to ask you. I'd almost forgotten about it till you mentioned time being precious earlier on. On the night of the accident you were telling me about an old clock you'd found in a garage sale that might be worth a small fortune if it was cleaned up and set working again. Did you ever get it valued? I seem to remember we were rudely interrupted by the fire before you could tell me what it might be worth."

"Yes, I did. After I got it cleaned up and restored, I took it to an antique dealers. They told me it wasn't a rare 18th Century timepiece after all, but a rather poor 20th Century copy. It's worthless and only fit for the garbage dump, though I might just keep it on my mantelshelf as a 'timely' reminder of the last few months."

"Ooooh! I was going to say that was bad, Mike, but... actually it was quite good... for a change!" Steve grinned broadly. "Such a shame it's not worth anything though."

"I know. Just my luck! Bang goes my pension pot, Buddy Boy!" As the cab pulled away from the curb to take them home, his booming laugh could be heard across the streets of San Francisco and almost as far away as the Golden Gate Bridge.

The End.


End file.
